


Tilting the World (On its Axis)

by UnderlandsCreator



Series: Spinning the World (In a new direction) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Canon-Typical Violence, Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Harry Potter Goes to a Different School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, LLF Comment Project, Language, Language of Flowers, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Lives, Platonic Soul Bonds, Platonic Soulmates, Revolution, Selkies, Vampires, Werewolves, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 16:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3735868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderlandsCreator/pseuds/UnderlandsCreator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry always knew that there was something special about him, but it's only recently that he's been able to put a definite name to it.</p><p>He has magic.</p><p>Add to that the discovery that a whole world of magic exists, and Harry couldn't be anymore excited. But as time passes, and the longer he spends there, he soon comes to find out that the magical world isn't anything like how he thinks it should be, that it is, in fact, in many ways the exact opposite of what a magical world should be.</p><p>And since no one seems to realize how much better things could and should be, or how the magical world as it is in no way lives up to how wonderful and amazing magic is, Harry is left with only one solution to this problem. </p><p>Fix the magical world himself.</p><p>Make it better until it becomes fit to actually deserve the title of magical world, a place where any thing or person that has magic has a home in it.</p><p>Harry is determined to see his vision of what a magical world can really be brought to life, and he's ready to do whatever he has to, to make that happen.</p><p> </p><p>*Updates every Monday</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A decision is made...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry runs away, or he tries to, at any rate.

Harry woke up to a day that, on the surface, appeared to be just like all the days before it, and, more than likely, all the days after, except for one thing.

And that one thing is what made all the difference, because on this day, Harry had decided to do something that he had never done before. And that was to make a decision, one that had to do, solely _,_  with himself.

Though to make things entirely accurate, it wasn't during the day that this decision was made, but the night.

 So, to start again.

 It was on a  _night_  like any other that ended with Harry being locked up inside of his cupboard, which was every night now that he thought about it, that Harry decided to make a decision that would change the rest of his life.

Harry knew that deciding to do something just for himself _already_ made this day different from every other day in his life, because he was taught that only normal people were allowed to think decision-making thoughts, and that freaks like him were only supposed to do what they were told, and nothing more. Harry, however, didn't agree with this method of thinking. (Though he was smart enough to keep that thought to himself.)

And that isn't to say that Harry didn't think at all, because he certainly did, but thinking and doing are two different things, and so far, Harry had only done things for his family, his thoughts and opinions not needed, or appreciated. (Especially not the thought that grew stronger and stronger every day, that maybe the Dursleys really _weren't_ his family. If they weren't that would explain why they hated him so much, though not why they still kept him around. ...it was probably for the chores.)

Not to mention that the thinking he  _did_  do normally wasn't very productive, usually being ,  _I live with a family of extremely lazy people, I wonder what they would do if I wasn't here?,_ and  _He doesn't have to throw me into the cupboard, can't he see that I can walk into it just fine myself? Him on the other hand..._  So while Harry  _could_  think for himself, he almost never made decisions based on those thoughts. And even less often than that, more in the realm of never, was him doing anything that wasn't for his family.

Obviously, this was a situation that needed to be changed immediately. Right now. Tonight.

So it came to be that, at the very grown-up age of eight, Harry sat in the dark of his cupboard and thought hard about a very serious issue. He wasn't happy, and the only one who seemed to care about this fact was Harry himself.

_On second thought, that wasn't entirely true_ , Harry thought to himself,  _after all, the Dursleys do seem to do everything they can to make sure that I'm not happy_.

Harry was a big believer in giving credit where credit was due,( unlike Dudley who regularly cheated in school and tried to claim other people's work, especially Harry's, as his own) so he felt it wasn't right to not acknowledge the fact that the Dursleys were fully aware of what they were doing.

But back to the point. Harry wasn't happy, and the only way he saw of fixing this was to, of course, run away.

He was surprised that he had never thought of this before, but he decided to blame that on the fact that he was eight, and that it takes a certain…maturity to be able to come up with such a brilliant idea. A maturity that he, unfortunately, didn't possess when he was seven.

So it was with his eight-year-old mature mind, that Harry decided that the answer to his unhappiness was to run away from the place that made him unhappy.

With this simple plan in mind, Harry pulled an old grey backpack that, once upon a time, was a Christmas gift to Dudley before it was thrown aside in favor of a new toy, from underneath his worn out cot, and set it before him. From underneath a loose floorboard, Harry pulled out a bottle of water and a few packets of crackers that he had been saving for the times that he was locked in his cupboard for days without food. He added the water and the crackers to the backpack, along with his only other change of clothes, his notebook, a pencil, and his favorite storybook that he got in a used book giveaway at the library,  _The Little Prince._

With everything that he needed safely packed away, Harry slipped on his shoes and shouldered on his backpack. The only thing standing in his way now was the locked cupboard door, but that was a problem that was easily solved.

Harry placed his hand on the lock and asked it to open. With a small  _click,_ the door unlocked and Harry stepped out into the silent, dark living room.

Despite the late hour, Harry felt safe, as he always did in the dark. The Dursleys were sleeping in their beds, and he knew that the only witnesses to the outcome of his thoughts and the decision made because of them, were the spiders who kept Harry's secrets, and the walls, who Harry doubted very much would have anything to say, given the fact that they were walls, and couldn't speak.

Harry headed towards the front door and carefully eased it open, closing it softly behind himself once he was outside. He waved goodbye to the lawn he had tended for the majority of his time with the Dursleys, and gave a small bow to the flowers he had grown in his aunt's prized garden. And it was the oddest thing, but under the glow of the full moon and the faint breeze that gently ruffled his bangs, it almost looked to Harry, as if, for only a moment, the flowers bowed back.

Harry decided that the excitement of what he was doing was getting to him, and continued on his way.

Walking down the street, with only the moon and the stars for company, Harry didn't feel lonely.

No, instead the only thing he felt was light, like he was bouncing with every step, because he was finally taking the first steps towards a life of happiness.

No more cupboard, no more punishments, and most importantly, no more Dursleys.

As Harry passed the park that he would hide away from Dudley in, and neared the end of the block, he felt a huge weight lift off his thin shoulders. He smiled wider than he could ever remember doing the few times that he had before, and he didn't look back.

Harry walked forward, head filled with all the possibilities of what tomorrow would bring, and didn't regret a thing.

.

.

.

Harry opened his eyes to the familiar bottom of the stairs, and fell off his cot. The small noise of his body hitting the floor caused a series of shouts to ring out from Petunia and Vernon, and all Harry could do was lay on the floor, confused, and think…what was going on?

 


	2. but complications arise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to run away again. Keyword being tries. Something strange is going on at 4 Privet Drive, and Harry wants to know why.

_Something_ , Harry decided as he picked himself up and dusted himself off,  _is very, very strange, and very, very wrong._

Harry didn't have the slightest clue as to how he could have ended up back in his cupboard. He knew that he really  _did_  leave last night because his backpack was still on his back.

And Harry knew that that wouldn't be possible if he didn't leave, or try to, in any case, because he always made sure to hide it underneath his cot, on the off chance that Vernon or Petunia went looking inside the cupboard and saw it.

Harry lifted up his small, lumpy pillow and saw that his storybook was missing from its hiding place, something that also wouldn't have happened unless he had tried to leave last night.

Harry decided to ignore Petunia yelling for him to start making breakfast for a second and pulled the backpack off, sitting down on his cot and setting the bag down on his lap, opening it to find his clothes, notebook, storybook, and emergency water and crackers.

 _So,_ Harry thought, frowning,  _I wouldn't have put all this together if I didn't leave, but if I left, which I know I did, why am I back?_

Unfortunately, Harry didn't have any more time to think about the strangeness of the whole situation, because the sound of several stampeding elephants, or just one Vernon, and the sight of dust being shaken loose from the ceiling above him, let Harry know that his time was up.

Vernon bellowing for Harry (though Vernon preferred to call him Boy) to get his ungrateful, lazy self up, (and didn't that seem a bit silly? Harry knew that of all the people in the house, he was the only one who couldn't be called lazy), and start getting breakfast ready marked, for the moment, the end of his time to himself.

Harry got up with a sigh and stood in front of the locked cupboard door, and decided to, rather helpfully, remind Vernon about one small, but important fact.

"I would love to start making breakfast for you, Uncle Vernon, but you shouldtry and remember that you have to let me  _out_ of the cupboard before I can do that." The silence that followed his words was awkward, and after a few seconds had passed, he heard thundering footsteps heading towards him.

It was only as they got nearer that Harry remembered to stuff the backpack back underneath his cot. He quickly did that and hurried to stand back in front of the door, just as the lock was turned.

With a great push, the door was forced open, and the doorway was soon filled with the very unpleasant sight of Vernon’spurpling face, and the top half of his great heaving body.

"Listen here, Boy, I will not tolerate such backtalk in my home. When I tell you to do something, you do it," Vernon huffed out, spit flying from his mouth to land on Harry’s face.

Harry stared at Vernon and resisted the urge to wipe off the spit.

He succeeded. Barely.

Harry nodded his head and waited until Vernon had moved away before he rolled his eyes, wiping his face off with his shirt sleeve.

 _Honestly,_ Harry thought,  _if you're going to get angry at me for not doing things quick enough, why don't you leave the cupboard door unlocked?  Or, if you’re not going to do that, at least remember that you have to let me out before I can do anything._

These thoughts, however, remained unvoiced, because even though _Harry_ knew that everything he was thinking made sense, he didn't have any hope that the Dursleys would see things the way he did. Living with them as he was, Harry had realized very quickly that the Dursleys hardly ever saw things the way he and everyone else in the world seemed to. (With the exception of Vernon's sister, Marge)

Harry walked quietly into the kitchen, making sure to keep his head down, and straight to the fridge. He took out the whole carton of eggs, because he would need at least that many to feed Vernon and Dudley, a packet of bacon, and a side of ham, his nose wrinkling up as he did. Once he had everything on the countertop, he used the stool step to get the pan and fired up the stove. When all was said and done, Harry had made a breakfast fit for at least four people, with six omelets, fourteen pieces of bacon, and what seemed like a pound of cooked ham. But of course, this meal made for four would feed only two, the “men” of the house, with Harry receiving a piece of toast, and Petunia having a salad, in order to “maintain her girlish figure”, whatever that meant.

Not that he was complaining, because even if he  _could,_  he wouldn’t eat any of the meat, the sight and smell making him feel sick for as long as he could remember, though he could never figure out why. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t have anything to do with meat at all, touching it or eating it, but since it wasn’t, up to him that is, he simply had to deal with cooking it, regardless of whether or not he wanted to.

So it was with breakfast served, and Harry receiving what would most likely be his only meal of the day, that he set out to do his next chore, tending to the garden, the one thing that he could say that he enjoyed doing. Well that, and cleaning on Sundays.

As soon as Harry got outside, he started on his morning ritual. “Good morning,” he said to the flowers, tilting his ear towards them as he imagined them saying good morning back.

He settled himself down in the only spot of shade, at least for the moment. He would need to move with the shade until the sun started to set if he didn't want his skin to burn and peel off again, and started to pull up as many weeds as he could spot.

For Harry, pulling up weeds was a rather mindless activity, so while his hands worked, his mind was free to wander. And wander it did, right back to the one issue that was bothering him from the time that he woke up. Why was he still at the Dursleys, placed right back on his cot as if nothing had happened last night, when he clearly remembers packing up his things and leaving.

Maybe…maybe he only thought that he left?

Harry tried not to let his imagination run away from him, and most of the time he was...kind of successful, but maybe the excitement over getting ready to leave made him imagine that he left.

 “That must be it,” Harry said to the flowers, and with their open petals facing the sun, it was as if the flowers were his captive audience, hanging onto his every word, “I must have fallen asleep while I was getting ready to leave, and I didn’t even realize.” With that figured out, Harry felt much better about everything, and he happily tuned back into weeding the garden.

Harry liked to learn from his mistakes, so now that he knew being overexcited would lead to him falling asleep and not being able to leave, he decided to make his true attempt to leave that night, but this time, with a calmer state of mind.

“I will be cool, calm, and collected,” he whispered to the flowers, and they bobbed their heads as if in agreement, “and I will write down the exact time and date in my notebook.”

Harry also liked to be thorough, so keeping a record of what was happening seemed like the right thing to do. With that thought, Harry yanked up the last weed and stood up, dusting off his hands as he did.

 _Now all I have to do is get through the rest of my chores, and wait until the Dursleys fall asleep,_  Harry thought to himself as he headed around back towards the small garden shed, _just a little more dusting, cooking, and cleaning, and then I’m free._

* * *

 

 

 It was later that day, when the living room light finally went off and Harry knew that it was nighttime, that he decided to make his move.

He waited until he could hear snores filling the house before he started getting ready to leave. He pulled his backpack out from underneath the cot and took out his notebook and pencil. With those in hand, Harry slipped on his shoes back on and slid the straps of the backpack onto his shoulders. He put the pencil in the middle of the notebook to free up a hand to open the door with.

With a slight brush of his fingers over the lock, and a whispered “please open”, Harry was out on the other side in the darkened living room.

Harry looked up at the clock over the mantle place and saw that it was 11:30 exactly. He opened his notebook, picking up the pencil, and on the page that read  _Leaving Day,_ he wrote:

_Date: July 1st_

_Time: 11:30_

When he was finished, Harry put the pencil and the notebook back in the backpack and headed towards the front door, all the while feeling cool, calm, and collected.

Well,  _mostly_ cool, calm, and collected. He was still a little excited, but he was trying to make sure that he didn’t get  _too_ excited.

Harry closed the door and didn’t look back. He was leaving nothing behind. Well, nothing except for seven, almost eight, years of bad memories, and a “family” who would be happier to see him gone.

With every step he took away from the house, he felt lighter, happier, _freer._

Sure, he might have messed up with his first attempt to leave yesterday, but Harry believed that every new day was a fresh start that gave you the chance to do things that you weren't able to do the day before. That meant that today was a new chance to do everything over, but right this time.

Before he knew it, Harry was passing the park, and fast approaching him was the end of the street. When he looked back, he could just make out the garden surrounding the front of the house, but with every step he took, it grew farther and farther away.

Harry turned back around and happily went to take the last step that would take him beyond the border of the block, only to blink and open his eyes to the ceiling of his cupboard.

 _Again_.

Harry blinked up at the ceiling in confusion for a long minute, brows furrowed and breathing slow.

 _Wha…what? How am I… this is impossible,_ Harry thought. He clearly,  _clearly_ , remembered walking out the front door, so why…why was he back in his cupboard?

Harry sat up slowly and noticed his backpack laying on the bed next to him. Sunlight was streaming in from where it was able to get through underneath the door, showing that it was daytime.

 _So it was daytime, but I don’t even remember going to sleep…,_ Harry realized with a start that he didn’t remember falling asleep, because he  _didn’t._

He did walk out the front door last night, and he could prove it because he…he had…the notebook! That’s right, he wrote down when he left in his notebook, so if what he wrote was there, then that would prove that he  _did_  leave, but somehow came back…

Harry decided that he could think about how he got back later, for now, he needed to see his notebook.

He grabbed the bag and pulled it onto his lap, opening it and taking out the notebook, and there in black and white, with the pencil marking his place were the words  _Leaving Day,_ and beneath that the date July 1st, and the time 11:30.

Proof, what he held in his hand was  _proof_  that he wasn’t crazy, and that he did leave because the 1st was Saturday, and the Dursleys always went to church on Sunday, which is the only reason why he didn’t hear the usual shouts telling him to get breakfast ready.

Harry  _did_  leave yesterday night, and he probably really did leave the night before, too, when he found himself back in the cupboard.

Someone or  _something_  was messing with him, and Harry promised to himself that he was going to get to the bottom of whatever was going on, because it wasn’t the Dursleys who were bringing him back,  _that_ , he knew for sure, so the only question now was, who, or what, was?


	3. Cleaning Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does some cleaning, and comes to some interesting conclusions.

With his resolve set to find out what or who it was that kept returning him to the Dursleys, Harry decided to get started on his chores for the day.

 _It would be nice if Vernon remembered to leave the door unlocked,_  Harry thought, but of course, that was too much to ask for, because, against  _all_  odds, the cupboard door was locked.

 _I guess expecting Vernon to think ahead, even just this once was silly, and just like every Sunday, despite the door being locked, I’m obviously still expected to clean the whole house._  Harry found himself, quite often actually, questioning how Vernon managed to get through each day, forgetting things as often as he did. Maybe it was a talent?

Harry reached forward, and like he had done numerous times before, placed his hand on the lock, and asked it to open. With a small  _click_  it did, and Harry was free.

Harry shielded his eyes as he walked out into the sun-streaked living room and squinted when he looked at the clock over the mantle place. It was around 8:30 in the morning and the Dursleys were usually back by 5 or 6 on Sundays, depending on where they went for breakfast and lunch, and how big of a tantrum Dudley threw at either location.

 _That means I have plenty of time to get everything cleaned up. Today I'll start in the kitchen, and make my way from there,_ Harry decided as he made his way to the kitchen, his eyes finally adjusting to the light.

Once he was there, he went to the little closet in the corner and pulled out the broom, cleaning solution, duster, mop, bucket, and cleaning rags. He set the broom and the mop in the bucket leaning against the kitchen table and put the rest of the cleaning supplies on top of it.

Harry left them alone for the moment and moved to the sink full of dishes. “Ok everyone, it's Sunday once again, and all of you know what that means, right?” without waiting for a reply that would never come, Harry continued, “That’s right, that means cleaning day! Not that every day isn’t cleaning day, but every day I don’t have all of you here to help me, do I?”, Harry finished with a little grin as he reached down to remove the dishwashing liquid and the sponge from the cabinet underneath the sink.

“Now then, Mr. Soap, Mr. Sponge, would you be so kind as to help me with the dishes?” As if signaling their happy approval, both items flew out of Harry's hands and began cleaning the dishes, the water turning on automatically.

“And don’t think that I forgot you, Ms. Mop, and your partner, Mr. Bucket,” Harry added as he turned back around to face the table with the rest of the cleaning supplies, “Would you mind terribly,” Harry continued as he moved to pick up the bucket and held it up to the sink, and on cue, soap and water started to enter it until it was filled to about halfway, “working your magic on the kitchen floor?” The bucket jumped out of his hands when he finished and was soon followed by the mop picking itself up, dunking itself in the bucket, and moving to clean the floor.

Harry grabbed up the rest of the cleaning supplies, and walked back to the living room, leaving the sounds of running water and the clattering of dishes behind him.

"Curtains? It's alright, you can relax and close now." Harry heard a slight rustling as the strings holding the curtains untied themselves, and the curtains fell to cover the windows, throwing the living room into a sudden shade.

"Now, Ms. Duster, I would appreciate it if you made this place spotless, from top to bottom, as you always do." The duster flew out of his hand and began dusting the mantle place.

"As for you, Mr. Clean and Mr. Rag, since it's still light out, you can start on the windows upstairs until it gets a bit darker." The cleaning rag slipped away and unfolded itself in front of him. It floated flat in the air for a second, before the bottle of cleaning solution jumped on its back and the rag floated the both of them upstairs.

"So now it's just you and me, Mr. Broom, how about we get started...oh, how could I forget? I'm sorry Mr. Broom, but I left Ms. Dustpan in the closet. I'll go get her right now." Harry left the broom leaning on the wall next to his cupboard, and went back to the kitchen, stepping around the mop as he did.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Mop, I didn't mean to interrupt you, but I just need to get something that I forgot." Harry shot off as he tried to move as quickly as he could. Ms. Mop had a bit of a temper when she was interrupted in the middle of cleaning, and the last time Harry did, he ended up soaked because she asked Mr. Bucket to pour water on him.

Harry grabbed the dustpan and made his way out of the kitchen, the sponge waving goodbye to him as he went.

"I'm back Mr. Broom, and now the two of you are reunited at last." Harry picked the broom back up and carried it to the center of the living room.

“The two of you can start in here first, and then make your way upstairs when you're done," Harry said to the two, releasing them so that they could start working.

The broom started sweeping right away, the dustpan following right behind it, and Harry decided to leave them to it.

Harry moved to one of the two little bookshelves that the Dursleys had in the room, though Harry never understood _why_ they had them, because in all the time that he had been living here, Harry was the only one who even came near the bookshelves, and was most definitely the only one to touch the books, and pulled down the book that he had started reading last Sunday.

It was as Harry was sitting down to read the book, surrounded by objects moving by themselves, by the  _house_  cleaning itself, all on his command, that Harry was struck again by the fact that he could do things that not everyone else could do.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, or about being strange, being different, in fact, Harry would never change this about himself, especially if the alternative was being “normal”, like the Dursleys always insisted that they were.

No, the only reason why Harry decided to take note of the things that he was doing, the same things that he had  _been_  doing, every Sunday since he was tasked with cleaning the whole house on this day, was because it seemed like it might be connected to why his every attempt to leave the Dursleys so far, had been unsuccessful.

Harry thought, no,  _knew_ , that it had to be connected to the things that he could do, because kids who run away aren't returned to their rooms as if nothing ever happened, at least, Harry didn't think so.

Harry didn't know many other children who had tried to run away, or any children at all for that matter, Dudley made  _sure_  of that, but he was sure that the same thing that was happening to him, wasn't happening to them.

 _Okay, so let's look at everything I know so far, which isn't really much._  Harry frowned, looking down at the book in his lap, but not really seeing it.  _Now, since I can't even imagine one person being so interested in me to keep doing this, much less two, it has to be one person. So one person, who, for whatever reason, has decided that I need to stay with the Dursleys, even though they have to know how they treat me since they keep on putting me back in the cupboard, and not Dudley’s second bedroom._ Harry sat for a long time on the sofa, the book remaining unread in his lap, thinking about his current situation.

"I don't know what they look like, or who they are, though they're probably older than me, and they must have powers like me to be able to get past the locked doors and snatch me off the street without me realizing, and they must hate me, though I don't know why, and they..." Harry shot to his feet, the book tumbling down to the floor, but he didn't even notice, because like a ball to the face he was hit with a feeling like he knew who was doing this, even though he didn't really know, he _knew,_  because he was dealing with someone completely dedicated to his unhappiness. He was dealing with a magical version of the Dursleys, but all in one person!

Harry fell back down on the couch as another thought hit him, with just as much force. Well, actually two thoughts; the first being something that he had always known had to be true, that there were other people in the world with the same powers as him, and while that was super exciting, and if he had found this out any other way then he would probably be jumping around in happiness, heck, he might even have hugged Dudley he was so happy, that brought him back to thought number two,  _there was nothing he could do about the person putting him back._

Harry realized that he had a very big problem on his hands, and no way to solve it. Because honestly, there really wasn't anything he could do. Every time he tried to leave everything seemed normal, right up until the point where he was waking up the next day, back in the cupboard. And the worst part about the whole thing was that he didn't know why, and couldn't even ask the person who was doing it, because he didn't know who or where they were!

Harry slid down the couch until he was sitting on the floor, his head leaning back against the cushion and stared up at the ceiling. 

He had learned very early on that dwelling on all the bad things that happened to him was pointless, because that was just how life worked, bad things happened, good things happened, though in his experience more bad than good, and constantly thinking about the bad things wouldn't change the fact that they happened. Once he realized that, he stopped, and now, whenever something bad happened, like the situation he was in right now, he would only focus on how to make the best out of a bad situation. He tried to only think about what he could do, and not what he couldn't. 

"Ok, so I guess I won't be able to run away, fine, I've been living here for practically 8 years anyway, but I don't want to just sit around and let things stay the way they've always been. I won't let some mysterious person who hates me get in the way of me doing something that will make me happy. I'm used to being hated, and if I can live with the Dursleys, I can live with this. I just need to find something else to do that will make me happy."

He picked up the book that he had dropped and idly flipped through the pages as he thought. "Something that will make me happy...something fun...maybe I can start sneaking away to go visit the library?"

The more he thought about it, the more Harry realized that the library was actually perfect. He loved to read, and from the one time he had visited it, he knew that it was cool inside, and most importantly, he didn't really have any other options. Unless he wanted to deal with daily games of Harry Hunting the park was out, and besides that, his only other option was to just stay in the house.

And besides the library being the only place that he actually wanted to be, he would finally be able to read something other than the same books that he had no choice but to reread over and over again at the school.

With his decision made, Harry felt better about moving forward, and like a weight was lifted from off his mind.

Harry stood up and glanced at the clock to see what time it was, only to do a double take when he realized that it was a few minutes after 12. It wasn't late and the Dursleys shouldn’t be back until about 5, but he couldn't believe that 3 hours had passed while he was trying to figure everything out. 

He walked into the kitchen and saw that the dishes were all clean and placed neatly in their drying racks, along with the floor being mopped clean. He walked back into the living room to see that the broom and dustpan were leaning against the wall, their job done, and that the rag and cleaning solution was resting on the coffee table.

Harry raised his voice as much as he was able and called out to the cleaning supplies to make sure they all heard him.

“Hello! Everyone, can I have your attention, please? I would like to thank all of you for a job well done, and ask that you all please make your way to the kitchen, and back into the closet.”

Since they were already in the kitchen, the mop and bucket were the first to make their way into the closet, closely followed by the duster, broom, and dustpan, and ending with the cleaning rag flying in with the bottle of cleaning solution back on its back.

Once they were all inside, the closet door closed itself, and Harry decided to put the dishwashing liquid and sponge away himself.

“As always, this was a very productive day for everyone, and once again, I would like to thank all of you for your help. I look forward to us working together again next time.” With that final remark, Harry grabbed a piece of bread and got a glass of water before he made his way out of the kitchen, and back to the couch. Now was the perfect time to finish the book while he ate, and if he was lucky he might even be able to squeeze out a few minutes to watch some TV.

It was a few hours later that he finally went back into the cupboard, and it turns out that he did so just in time, because a few minutes after he sat down on his cot Harry heard the sound of Vernon’s car pull up, and the sound of the door opening soon after.

Harry settled down to the sound of the Dursleys making their way back into the house, with far more noise than Harry honestly thought was necessary.

 _I still wish I knew why whoever was doing this is forcing me to stay with the Dursleys of all people, I mean, what could I have really done to make someone hate me that much? But no, that doesn't make any sense, I don't even... there must be something wrong with_ them _no-_

_BAM!_

Harry jumped, startled by the loud noise of Dudley repeatedly kicking the cupboard door. He watched the door for the few seconds it took for Dudley to get tired, dust or dead spiders falling like small specks of black and brown snow until he stopped.

 _I guess it doesn't really matter, well it does, but i'll think about that later, what I really need to focus on is how I'm going to get past Petunia and Dudley tomorrow._  Harry thought, dusting himself and his cot off,  _Vernon will be at work, so at least there's that...i'll figure it out later, right now, I need to sleep._

Harry curled himself around his small lumpy pillow, letting the sounds of whatever show Vernon was watching lull him to sleep. He was always exhausted after he used his powers as much as he did every Sunday, but at least he could sleep knowing that he didn't have to worry about doing any other chores until tomorrow.

And he wasn't too worried anyway, because now that he had made his decision, he knew he was going to stick to it. He had a responsibility to himself to do so, and he took responsibilities very seriously.

 _After all,_  Harry thought to himself, _if I don’t look out for me, no one will._

 _Even if,_  Harry added when the stairs started to shake again, this time from Dudley running up them, more dust raining down,  _I have to work around the Dursleys to do so._


	4. A trip to the library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DETERMINATION is a powerful thing.

Harry sat on his cot, kicking his legs back and forth as he thought and fanned himself with his notebook.

He had finished his chores for the day, and now he had to figure out how he was going to leave the house, because he had to do that before he could even think about going to the library. 

And before he could even do _that,_ he would need permission to leave, not because anything was stopping him, at least not as far as the library went, but because the Dursleys were weird. They hated him and never wanted to be around him or see him, but they also never wanted him to leave the house.

 _But lucky for me,_ Harry thought as the sounds from TV started to reach him,  _I know_   _just who to ask._

_Not that I should need permission to leave the house, with how the Dursleys are always going on about how they want me gone, and how much of a burden I am on them. They should be happy to see me gone, but no, they pretend like I'm not there when I'm doing chores around the house, but as soon as I want to go somewhere, they need me to stay in the house to do something else. They don't want me here, but they also don't want me gone. The Dursleys are so strange sometimes._

Despite knowing all this, Harry knew that if he asked Petunia to leave while she was distracted with something else, she would just wave him off, and for Harry, that was as good as an ok.

 _I could probably go up to her and tell her that the sky is brown, or that Dudley had just turned into a pig somehow, and she would just agree. Though it actually wouldn't be all that bad if that did happen,_ Harry laughed as he imagined it, _that would actually be an improvement, because at least pigs have cute tails._

Vernon was at work, Mondays were lay in, late days for Dudley now that it was summer, and Petunia was usually drinking tea and watching her morning soap operas at around 10, and since he could hear the TV, things were going on as they usually did. 

Harry asked the lock to open, and stepped out. Petunia didn't look up when he did, but Harry didn't think that she would. Petunia, as Harry found out over time, tended to be just as aware as Vernon when it came to making sure his door was locked or unlocked, so she tended not to question him whenever he would walk out to do something.

Harry walked until he was standing to the right and just a little behind Petunia, who was sitting on the sofa closest to the TV.

"Aunt Petunia, may I go outside?" Harry asked, and she nodded absentmindedly, waving him away like Harry knew she would.

"Thank you Aunt Petunia, I'll be sure to be back in time to prepare dinner." She didn't give any type of response this time, but Harry wasn't expecting her to.

He went back to his cupboard to grab his backpack, and then headed to the front door, making sure not to lock it, so that when he came back he could just slip back in.

It was as he was walking down the sidewalk that he hit the first major snag in his plan. He didn't actually remember which way the library was. 

He had only visited it once when he was 6, and only for a few minutes.

The visit, of course, wasn't for Harry. Petunia, in an effort to introduce the joys of reading to Dudley, decided to bring him to the library. Harry, who would have enjoyed the visit much more than Petunia seemed to think Dudley would, was only brought along in order to prevent him from setting the house on fire, or whatever other reason she thought up for why Harry couldn't be left alone in the house that day.

Anyway, long story short, when Dudley realized that the library was a place full of books, and not a restaurant or toy store, he threw a tantrum to rival all tantrums that he had previously thrown that week, and they never went back since.

_While I don't remember much about that day, besides the fact that I was annoyed that we couldn't stay for longer, or that I couldn't just sneak away, I do kind of remember that the library was in the opposite direction of the park, and that it didn't take us long to get there._

On that thought, Harry began walking away from the park.

 _I wonder if this counts as an escape attempt,_ Harry thought as he skipped over the cracks in the sidewalk, _does what I'm actually trying to do matter? Because I’m definitely not trying to run away again, at least not now, but maybe it's how far I go that counts. When I tried to leave before, I always walked pretty far past the park, so it might only count when I go past a certain point. I'll have to experiment with how far I can go later, and if the reason why I'm leaving makes a difference._

_Though I might get a chance to start those experiments now, depending on how far away the library is. Hopefully, the answer is not far at all._

If the library was outside how far he could go, then he was out of luck.

Harry rounded the corner and saw to his relief the top of a building, the words  _Public Library_  in big, white letters printed on the front.

_Well, that's one less thing to worry about. Now I know that the library is closer than I thought, and how to get to it._

Harry continued walking until he reached the front steps of the library, and was surprised to see that it was much bigger than he remembered.

He walked up the steps and pushed open the front doors, a wave of cool air greeting him when he did. He looked around once he was inside, and saw that besides himself and the woman working behind a big circular desk near the entrance, there were only two other people in the library that he could see so far, but they were busy with what they were doing, and didn't pay any attention to Harry.

_Or did they?_

Harry hurried further into the library and ducked behind the nearest bookcase, peeking around so that only his eye was visible as he kept watch of the people in the front.

_I can't forget that someone's watching me, and until I find out who, it could be anyone. Maybe the woman behind the desk, or the man reading the book in the corner. I need to be extra careful, and keep an eye out for any suspicious behavior._

None of the people he was watching looked like they spent their time watching and waiting for him to try and run away, before they grabbed him and snuck him back into the Dursleys house, but he also didn't know what someone who did that _would_  look like, so that didn't really help. 

Was the person who was doing this tall? Short? He knew they had to be older than him, but were they really old, or only a little old? A man? Woman? Wearing a funny hat? A giant bird creature with flaming eyes and a monkey tail? He didn't _think_  it was that last one, but if it was, they would be really easy to spot.

 _I have to remember to always be on the lookout, there's no telling ..._ Harry trailed off once he finally gave himself a chance to look around, his eyes growing wide.

He was surrounded by more books than he had seen in his entire life, and he was still only in the first row of bookcases!

Looking at all the shelves full of books, Harry couldn't understand how the library wasn't full of people. There was so much to learn, all the books just sitting there, lonely, begging to be read!

But they didn't have to worry, because Harry was here now, and he was going to read _everything._

But where should he start? Should he just pick a random shelf and go from there? Or maybe he should start with something that he already knew.

_I think I'll start with fairy tales. I already know that I love the few I've read, and I want to read something fun right now._

With his mind made up about what books he was going to start reading first, Harry made his way further into the library.

The bookcases towered over Harry as he walked between them, though considering how short he was, most things did, so that wasn’t anything special. What was special, though, was how many books there seemed to be on any single subject.

Harry ran his fingers along the spines of the books as he walked, mouthing the titles to himself as he did, and as he passed by the bookcase labeled  _Mythology,_ his attention was caught by all the strange words in the titles that he didn't know.

_Hmm, mythology sounds interesting. Once I’m done with all the fairytales, I’ll probably head back over here, unless something else catches my attention._

Before long, Harry reached a part of the library that was full of color, with soft cushions on the floor and posters with kids’ reading taped on the sides of the bookcases around the little area.

_This is probably where they keep all the kids' books, so time to get started!_

He looked around, making sure he was still alone, and walked over to the nearest bookcase, looking over the books that were there.

_Now that I've found them, I'll read as many as I can before I have to leave. I left the house at around ten, so I have a good few hours before I have to head back, plenty of time to read at least a few stories._

He grabbed the first four books that caught his eye. If he was going to read all the books here anyway, Harry decided, it didn't matter where he started.

With his books in hand, Harry headed over to a gap between two bookcases that looked like it was the perfect size to hold him, and when he sat down in it, he realized that he was right. The space was just big enough that Harry could scoot back and press his back against the wall, while still having enough space to keep him and his books completely hidden, and light to read the books by.

_It's better that I stay as hidden as possible while I'm here, so this is the perfect spot. My back is against the wall, so no one can come up behind me, and the space I'm in is small enough to not stand out._

_I'm out of sight, out of mind, and I'll be able to see anyone coming to get me._

_The Dursleys were good for teaching me at least one thing. When you're treated like you aren't really there, and just part of the background, you learn how to make yourself less noticeable. And when people don't realize that you're there, they talk about things as if you really weren't. So it isn't my fault that I now know that the real reason why Dudley and I switched schools was that Dudley was going to be held back a grade. Honestly, it isn’t. So just like it wasn't my fault then, it won't be my fault now, if whoever's watching me just so happens to, I don't know, reveal their full name and reason for following me and I just happen to be around to hear._

Harry moved to sit with his legs crossed, and picked up the first book in the stack next to him.

Book in hand, Harry flipped to the first page, settled back, and began reading  _Snow White and the Seven Dwarves,_ the first book of what was to be many, many, more.

* * *

 

In what seemed like no time at all, Harry was closing the back cover on the third book in the pile, with one more left to go.

_This seems like a good time to stop and go over what I've learned so far. So, to recap, from Snow White I've learned to not eat apples given to me by old witches, as it will probably be poisoned, mirrors, specifically talking ones, usually make situations worse, and are not to be trusted, evil queens do things for very strange reasons, and that you should always have a prince nearby, as they can cure eternal sleep with a kiss._

_Next is Cinderella, who kind of reminded me of myself, actually, I learned that bad things like to happen to good people, glass slippers are comfortable to walk in_ ,  _but only fit the person they were made for, balls can be fun when you're dancing with the right person, and that once again, a prince is a good thing to have around, especially if you're looking for true love._

_And finally Rapunzel, where I learned that you should never steal or make deals with a witch, long hair is very useful, maybe I should grow my own out? Not that Petunia would let me, but something to keep in mind, Rapunzel was really bad at keeping secrets, tears can heal people, and that there's nothing worse than being trapped in a place, knowing that there's only one way out, and not being able to use it._

Harry, looking back at what he had learned so far, knew that while some of what he learned only made sense in the stories they came from, some things could also be applied to real life.

For instance, from _Snow White_ , he learned to not accept things from strangers, from _Cinderella_ he learned that you have to be able to push forward and deal with the bad things in life, before you can reach the good. And lastly, from _Rapunzel_ , he learned not to steal, at least not unless you're completely sure that you won't get caught, to be better at keeping secrets, and that...long hair can be useful if you end up trapped in a tower? He would have to think more about that one.

Oh, and how could he forget? He also learned that princes are good to have around, as they are capable of waking people up if they should happen to fall into an eternal sleep.

Harry put _Rapunzel_ with the books he had finished reading, and looked up at the window on the wall across from him, trying to figure out what time it was by where the sun was in the sky, wincing as the light tried its best to blind him.

_I really need to think about somehow getting a watch, especially if I'm going to be making it a habit to come to the library, which I plan to do. But anyway, looking at the sun it's probably...not too late? I should still have some time, so I'll just read the last book that I have here before leaving. The earlier I get back, the less chance there is of Vernon realizing I was gone._

Harry picked up the last book, noticing as he did that it was much thicker than the other books had been. The title of the book was odd too, with half of it being a word that Harry didn't understand.

The front cover of the book contained the title with the word Harry didn't know, followed by the brothers who must have written it. The title read  _Grimm's_   _Märchen_ in big fancy black letters, and underneath it was written  _Compilation of stories by the Brothers Grimm._

 _This is different,_ Harry thought,  _though that does explain why it's so much bigger than the other books. I don't know what a compilation is, but since it says stories maybe that just means that there's more than one story inside, so it has to be bigger than a book with only one story in it. I might have to start reading it now and finish it later whenever I come back._

Harry placed the book in his lap, and quickly skimmed over the index (there were so many stories, over 100!), and turned to the first story and started reading, or at least he tried to.

It was rather hard, as Harry soon found out, to try and read a story when it was written in another language, one he didn't know, seeing as he was taught, and could only speak and read English.

_Well, isn't this a surprise. What am I supposed to do now? I definitely can't read a book that’s written in a language I can’t read, and I don't even know what language this is._

_Oh well,_ Harry thought as he moved to stand up,  _I guess I just have to put it back and leave. How annoying, and it looked interesting too...wait._ Harry stopped, frozen, as the meaning behind what was happening caught up to him.

_I never even realized that things could be written in different languages, I mean, I know that people speak different languages, but I never really thought about it._

Harry frowned, looking down at the book in his hands. This...was an unexpected problem, but what could he do about it? Just staring at the book wouldn't suddenly make him understand it, and he couldn't help but think about how many more books he wouldn't be able to read because he couldn't understand them _either,_ all because he only knew English.

He didn't have anyone to teach him other languages, but maybe he could teach himself? There had to be books about how to learn languages, and what better place to find them then in a library? Where there were probably books about how to do all sorts of things, and all he had to do was find them.

If books were going to be written in different languages, then he was just going to have to learn every language. 

Harry’s grip on the book tightened, and his eyes showed his determination. He was excited, and he couldn't wait to start. He was going to find out what language the book was in, and he was going to  _learn_ it. He was going to read this book, no matter what, and every other book that tried to hide itself from him.

If he had to learn 100 different languages, then he would, because there was no reason not to, no reason to say that he can’t, that it's too hard, too much, because as long as he was alive, Harry knew that he could do anything, or try to, at any rate.

Harry refused to let language be an obstacle for him.

 _I swear that I won't let anything stop me from learning, I won’t._ And then, as if in answer to his thoughts, Harry felt a rush of warmth spread through him, starting from his heart, and getting stronger with every beat.

Harry’s eyes began to glow an otherworldly green, and his skin seemed to light up from within, but this stopped before Harry was able to notice that something was wrong.

The warmth and the glow only lasted for a moment, before Harry was back to his regular self, save for a lingering feeling of heat that was fading even as he thought about it, and an enhanced memory that went unnoticed altogether.

_This must be what true determination feels like. How...nice._

Harry didn't have long to enjoy the feeling before the sound of approaching footsteps broke him out of his thoughts.

He hurriedly gathered up the rest of the books he had and stepped back into the shadows provided by the two towering bookcases that offered up an excellent hiding place.

The footsteps came closer, before stopping to the left of Harry. They stayed there for a few minutes, before going back the way that they came.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and relaxed against the wall he was standing against, his arms heavy with the weight of the books he was holding.

_I think that that's enough for today. I can always come back next Monday, or even later this week if I manage to sneak away. But now that I have something specific that I'm trying to learn, I think things will run a bit smoother. Right now my focus is languages, but that doesn't mean that I can't look at other things while I'm learning them._

_For now, though, I really should be heading back._

Harry knelt down and put the books he had into his backpack. He wasn't sure if you _could_ just take books from the library, but if no one stopped him, then he figured it was fine.

With that done, Harry continued on his way to the library entrance, noticing as he reached the area in the front with the tables that the man who was sitting there earlier was gone.

_Maybe he was the one who came by where I was earlier, I should have checked when I had the chance, though why he didn't come back before me is anyone's guess._

Before he left, Harry noticed a clock over the doors and saw that it was now closer to 3 than he thought. 

_Vernon usually gets home around this time, so I better hurry._

Harry quickly exited through the front and made his way down the steps. Once he was back on the sidewalk, Harry simply retraced his steps, and before long, he was walking down the sidewalk leading to the Dursleys house.

Harry walked up to the front door, and carefully lifted the cover over the mail slot in order to hear what was going on in the house. He heard the sound of the TV, but not the grumbling that usually accompanied Vernon watching it, or the whining that signaled Dudley, so that meant that Dudley was probably still upstairs. Along with the TV, Harry heard the sound of running water, so that meant that Petunia was in the kitchen doing something.

All that meant was that this was the perfect time to come back inside, so Harry let go of the mail slot cover, and slowly eased the door open until he had a space just big enough to slide through. Once he was inside, Harry gently pushed the door closed and locked it.

Petunia didn’t come out of the kitchen, so Harry knew that she didn't hear him when he came in.

The TV was on like Harry thought, and seeing the channel it was on, he knew that she must have just gotten up to go to the kitchen.

_So today it seems like I’ve been especially lucky. I wonder if that means tomorrow is going to be horrible? I hope not, but considering that it’s me hoping, it probably will be._

Harry decided to leave all thoughts about luck, good  _or_  bad, for later, and quietly made his way over to the cupboard.

Once he was inside, Harry took the books out of his backpack before shoving it back underneath the cot.

_This has been a rather productive day, and I’m happy with myself, so how about a Cheers?_

Harry had seen Petunia watching a movie through the crack of his door one night, and in the movie there were all these people wearing fancy clothes, holding glasses in their hands, clinking them together. They looked so happy when they did, shouting out  _Cheers!_  , celebrating with each other, and Harry had always wanted to try that, at least once.

_Right now, I’m happy, and I don’t need someone else to do cheers with, but, maybe…_

Harry sat up and raised his arm towards the ceiling, and with his hand formed around an imaginary glass, toasted his parents who he hoped were watching and happy for him.

“To me, and happiness, and learning new things, cheers!”

Harry drank his imaginary glass, and laughed, falling back down to lie on his cot.

Yes, he was still with the Dursleys, and  _yes_ , he did still have someone watching him, but he was finally doing something that wasn’t cooking, or cleaning, or gardening. Something that  _wasn’t_  for the Dursleys, and he could be happy, even if it was just for a moment, for that at least, couldn’t he?

Harry believed that he could, and that's why he continued to laugh, even when Vernon started yelling for “The Freak to stop with all his senseless nonsense, couldn’t he tell that good respectable were around, and that he was interrupting them?”


	5. Broken Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's luck has just run out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later on in the story some minor characters will show up once or twice, and while they are temporary, they still need names, so if anyone wants to, feel free to give me some character names, first and last, and they'll show up in the story.

_I guess I was wrong to think that I'd only have bad luck today,_  Harry pushed the door to the library open, a little smile on his face,  _because guess who's at the library again? That's right, me!_

When Harry woke up this morning, the last thing he expected was the chance to come back to the library so soon, much less today, but here he was. 

He knew that he had to stick with his plan from yesterday, so this time when Harry got to the library he went looking around for books about languages, and how to learn them.

If he was able to find a book about _all_ languages, then he could figure out what the language in the book from yesterday was, _and_ how many languages there really were, because he was sure there were a lot more than he thought.

Harry checked the time and started searching quicker. Today was just a regular Tuesday, and besides the fact that the Dursleys always wanted a big dinner every Tuesday that took forever to make, he didn’t get to leave the house until it was 4, and dinner needed to be on the table by 8.

_I only have enough time to find the books that I need, look at them for a little bit, and then I have to leave._  Harry sighed as he thought about all time he had already lost today, and he had just gotten to the library!

_I really wanted to start learning a language today too, but I guess that’ll just have to wait._

"That doesn't mean I have to be sad," Harry told himself, pushing and pulling at his cheeks until his frown was gone, "I just have to make the most out of the time that I _do_ have."

Feeling a little better, Harry continued with his search, perking up even more when he found a book that fit what he was looking for.

Harry ran his fingers over the spine of a book that read  _Languages of the World._

_Well then, that looks about right,_ Harry thought, pulling the book off the shelf,  _now I just need to head over to where I left the Marchen book, find out what language it’s written in, and then spend a few minutes looking at the language book before I have to leave._

Harry, with the book in hand, walked back over to where he had been reading yesterday.

He opened the storybook up to a random page and put it on the floor in front of him, so that he would be able to look back to it to check and see when he found the matching language, and put the language book in his lap.

_Let’s see, Arabic…no, Bulgarian…no, Chinese…definitely not, Estonian…no, Finnish…no, German…n- wait, yes! It looks the same! So that means that Grimm’s Marchen is a German book, and that the next time I come back to the library, I have to pick up a language learning book for German._

Harry clapped his hands together, happy and surprised that he had found out what language the book was written in so quickly.

_Since I finished faster than I thought I would, looking at the book for ten more minutes won't hurt._

The ten minutes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, because before Harry knew it, it was time for him to leave and he had just finished reading about an interesting language called  _Latin._

_After I learn German I think I’ll try and learn Latin, since it's supposed to be where the "Romance Languages" whatever those are, come from. If I learn Latin first, maybe it will make it easier to learn the other ones that come from it._

With his mind made up about what he would be doing next, Harry put both books back in his bag and left the library at exactly 5 o’clock.

_Hmm, I wonder what I should make. I think that we have a side of ham left over from yesterday, so I’ll probably use that, and make a roast chicken along with some sides. That should be enough food for even Dudley and Vernon to have leftovers, but I think that’s just wishful thinking on my part._

Once Harry reached the house, he stopped at his cupboard to drop off his backpack, then headed straight for the kitchen, dodging the leg Dudley stuck out in an attempt to trip him, and the ball he threw aiming for his head right after.

_He should really work on his aim,_  Harry thought as he took out the pots and pans he would need to make dinner,  _I mean really, I know I dodged it, but I could have just stood there, it didn’t even come close to hitting me._

Harry decided to put all thoughts of Dudley and his "amazing athletic ability", according to his parents, out of his mind and turned his focus back towards getting everything together.

He had a full dinner spread to make, and not a lot of time to do it before Vernon came back from work, impatient to be fed.

 

* * *

                                                                                                                

The sound of the lock opening was loud in the small space, and Harry made sure to push his whole weight against the things he had gathered up and pushed in front of the door.

Vernon turned and turned the doorknob, trying to push it in, managing to get it open a few inches, but Harry managed to push back harder, closing the gap. 

He held his breath, staying as quiet as possible, waiting to see what Vernon would do next. After a few minutes that felt like hours, Harry heard Vernon slowly lumbering away into the living room, loudly calling Harry names as he turned the TV on.

Harry slowly eased off the things he had stacked in front of the door, pushing them to the side so he could open the door just a crack to see what Vernon was doing, before carefully closing it back.

Lately, Vernon had been leaving the house some nights after dinner, only coming back long after Harry was done doing the dishes and getting ready to fall asleep. And every time he would wander around downstairs for a while, before he headed to the cupboard to try and get at him. The first time Harry wasn't expecting it, and Vernon was able to grab his leg while he was sleeping and almost pull him out, before he woke up and managed to wiggle free and shove the door close in Vernon's face.

Since then, Harry made sure to stay awake on the nights when Vernon left, and as soon as he was done with the dishes, he would use everything in the cupboard to block the door. Once he started doing that, the nights that Vernon left and came back always ended like this one, with him trying and failing to get to Harry, and then, as he had just seen, Vernon would end up slumped in his armchair in front of the TV, face tomato red and sweaty, glassy eyes reflecting the light from the screen, expression angry and dumb.

He wasn't sure how long Vernon would be sitting there today, or if he would try again, so just to be safe he kept the things in front of the door even after he heard the lumbering footsteps make their way up the stairs. It never hurt to be extra cautious, even if he did need to move everything back in the morning.

He didn't know why Vernon had suddenly started acting so strange, and it wasn't like he could ask him, so he just dealt with the odd situation as best as he could.

For now, he slept safely knowing that Vernon wouldn't be able to get in.

 

* * *

 

He should have known better than to think that his good luck would continue for much longer, he should have remembered that when good things happen to him, bad things are quick to follow.

But he had stopped waiting for something bad to happen, he had stopped.

That was his mistake.

Harry’s good luck ran out two days later.

Later, he would look back at this moment and wonder what he could have done differently, but that was then, and this is now.

* * *

 

When the plate slipped out of his hands, time seemed to slow down as Harry watched it, hoping that no one would be able to hear the sound it made when it hit the floor over the water running in the sink.

It finally hit the floor with a great crash, shards scattering away in every direction.

Harry quickly knelt down to start gathering the shards up, soapy fingers making everything harder, "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, don't worry Mr. Plate, everything's going to be fine. Look, all your pieces are right here," Harry whispered, picking up the last few pieces until he had them all gathered in his wet hands, "Now, wouldn’t you like to be back all in one piece? Because unlike Humpty Dumpty, while you may have had a great fall, you only need a little help from me to get put back together again.”

In response to his words, the shards started to shake in his hands, a few at the top starting to hover in the air. When Harry opened his hands flat, the shards there jumped up to join the rest. Once they were all together, they fit themselves back into place with a sharp snap, and then floating where the broken shards once were, was a perfect unbroken plate.

“Thank you Mr. Plate, I’m sure you feel all better now, and just look at you! All shiny and perfect again, you’re just-“ Harry cut himself off mid-word as a shiver raced down his spine, his grip on the plate tightening as all his hair stood on end.

It felt like someone was watching him, but none of the Dursleys should have been awake this late at night.

Harry looked up to the doorway of the kitchen and was surprised to see Vernon just standing there, breathing heavily and frowning as he watched him.

_That's right. Vernon left today, but he never comes back so early._

He felt another shiver run down his spine at the strange look in Vernon's eyes, and he stood up slowly, his fingers sliding on the plate, reminding him he still held it.

Reminding him of what had just happened.

Heart racing, Harry slowly backed away until he bumped against the sink, and without looking away he reached back and slipped the plate back into the sink and turned the water off.

Now the kitchen was silent, making Vernon's breathing seem even louder, and as his face grew red and splotchy, all Harry could think was he knew.  _He saw._

“I’m sorry uncle Vernon, I was -" Harry rushed to get out, but was cut off, not by Vernon yelling at him as he usually would, but by a pain so intense that it took his breath away.

Vernon…Vernon had just grabbed his arm and  _squeezed._

Faster than he had thought possible, Vernon was looming over him, trapping him against the sink, and it was only now that Harry noticed that he smelt strongly of something sharp and bittersweet.

Harry tried to pull his arm away, but Vernon’s grip was like iron, and when he looked back up at his face, it was like the look in his eyes had gotten worse, and Harry knew, he  _knew,_  without a doubt, that something bad was about to happen.

* * *

 

Harry ran into the living room, gasping in pain as he cradled his arm to his chest and rushed straight to his cupboard, his racing heart urging him to go faster, faster,  _faster._

He pushed the door open and close all in one breath, falling to his knees as he turned the lock with his good hand.

"Please, don't open, please,  _please_ , don't open, don't open, _don’t open_ ," he begged, the words hiccupping out of his mouth as he tried to catch his breath. 

His power had knocked Vernon away from him and slammed him into the wall, but he didn't know how long he would stay down, and he wasn't taking any chances. He waited and waited and waited, his grip white-knuckled on the doorknob, but as minutes passed and nothing happened, he slowly started to relax.

He let go and fell to the floor, all his strength gone. It took a moment for the pain to register again, but when it did, all Harry could do was wheeze out in shock, and clench his teeth on his bottom lip until it bled.

The pain was  _unbelievable_ , like white-hot needles piercing into his arm over and over again, and he could  _feel_  his bones grinding against each other.

Harry curled himself around his arm, and just lay on the cupboard floor, trying to get his breath back, and attempting to think past the pain, but it was impossible. All he could think about was how much it  _hurt_ , like nothing he had ever felt before.

He felt his eyes starting to water, but he refused to cry because of Vernon, he had never before, and he definitely wasn’t going to start now, regardless…regardless of how much pain he was in.

Harry took a few deep breathes when he finally could, and tried to calm down. When he could think straight again, he noticed that his right eye was nearly swollen shut and that he could barely see out of it.

_Why didn't the person who was watching me stop him?_ Harry couldn’t help but think, wincing when he moved his shoulder slightly and a sharp bolt of pain raced down his arm, _why did he do it? He never hit me before, so why?_

When Harry reopened his eye, he spotted his backpack where it was shoved into the corner underneath the cot, a reminder of when he had tried and failed to run away, a reminder that someone was watching him, someone knew what was happening to him, and wanted him to stay here.

When he was younger, Harry used to dream that someone would come and take him away, used to believe that he had to have some other family out there, and that they were looking for him, and that one day there would be a knock on the cupboard door, and it would be them.

But that never happened. That was never _going_ to happen, no one was ever going to come for him, no one was ever going to help him, but even though he knew that, for one brief moment earlier in the kitchen, he couldn't stop himself from calling out for someone, anyone to help him.

But of course, no one did.

Vernon didn't stop, the person watching him didn't help him, and that was when he knew he would have to save himself, because no one else ever would.

But there was a small part of him that couldn't help but think, what was wrong with him? Why would the Dursleys treat him the way that they did, if he didn't deserve it? Why else would someone he didn't even _know_ make sure that he had to stay with them, make sure that he couldn't even run away, if that wasn't punishment for something that he did?

_What…what did I do wrong? Maybe Vernon was right, and I am just a freak who deserves everything that happens to me, because what other explanation is there?_

Laying on the floor of his cupboard, Harry realized that sometimes bad things happened to people for no reason, and boys who lived in cupboards were meant to be hated, hurt, and treated like dirt by the people that were supposed to be their “family”.

But even as he thought that, a larger part of him was yelling at him, screaming at him that none of that was right, that _he_ wasn't the problem, but everyone else.

And Harry tried to listen to that larger part, he tried and realized that none of this was fair. He never asked for his parents to die. He never asked to be left at the Dursleys. He was forced to live with horrible people, but he tried to make the most of whatever little time he had to himself whenever he could. He made sure to always stay out of the Dursleys way, and only ever spoke when he was spoken too. He had never done a single thing to anyone, so none of this should be happening to him.

Whoever it was that put him with the Dursleys, he hated them, because if they weren't here, he wouldn't be forced to live with them, or he would have able to run away, and none of this would have ever happened.

"I wish..." Harry mumbled, exhausted to the point that he could barely keep his eye open, the pain he was in a constant ache beating in time with his heart.

_I wish I could just disappear._


	6. A Shadow falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it was the youngest said, "If you will gift me, gift me this, that which will hide me from all eyes, on brightest days, and darkest nights, that which to where my footsteps tread, will leave no path, no sign ahead. Let it be that where I walk, no shadows fall my steps will stalk."

_He was warm, everything was warm, his arm, his face, his heart, and someone was with him, someone was holding him, and... Oh, he_ knew _them, he missed them._

_For so, so long, all he wanted was to see them again. It was an ache that lived with him, every day, but now they were here, now everything-_

* * *

 

Harry was jolted awake by a scream, dream completely forgotten in the confusion of Petunia yelling for Vernon to wake up, though the warmth from it stayed with him, until it felt like there was a little fire in his chest, gently warming him from the top of his head, down to his toes.

He stared up at the ceiling in confusion and sat up, rubbing his chest as the warm feeling slowly started to fade.

Why was he laying on the floor? And why was Petunia yelling for Vernon to wake-

"Wake..." Everything came back to him all at once, the plate, pushing Vernon into the wall, his arm...

Harry looked down at his arm, his arm that was moving fine, like, like yesterday had never happened.

"Am I dreaming?"

He closed his eyes tight and counted to three, but when he opened them back up everything was still the same. His arm didn't hurt at all. He pushed his sleeve up and turned his arm back and forth, but no matter how he looked at it, it wasn't hurt.

"How am I...? I definitely didn't imagine everything that happened yesterday, so why am I fine now?"

Harry poked his eye to see if that still hurt, but it was fine too. Everything was fine, _and none of it made any sense._

The last of the warmth faded from the top of his head, and that was when Harry realized that he had his answer.  _This must be because of,_ Harry thought, bringing both of his hands up to press them to his chest, _the power that I have._ At that thought, Harry felt a weak pulse of warmth go through him again, before it faded, quicker than it had before.

"It was you, you helped me, again. Thank you,"Harry stared at his hands, and this time when he felt the tears come, he let them fall.

"I really mean it, honestly and truly, from the very bottom of my heart," Harry whispered, hugging his arms around himself, and wasn't it strange, and wonderful, and  _amazing_ that he could do that?

"You've been with me through everything, and I don't think that I've ever thanked you, and that's horrible. I know that I’m not just talking to myself right now, I just, I _know_ that you're listening, even if you don't have ears, I know you can hear me. You can hear me and I want you to know how happy I am, not just for everything you've done for me, but for always being with me. You're, you're my _friend_ , because friends look out for each other, and take care of each other, and make each other happy." Harry wiped his tears away and couldn't stop smiling, because everything he was saying was true, and as he spoke it was like all his bad feelings from yesterday were going away.

There was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't bad or a freak, because he had his power, the best thing that had ever happened to him, and there couldn't possibly be anything wrong with him if it chose to be with him. Him, and not Vernon, or Petunia, or Dudley, but Harry, and that proved that the only ones wrong were the Dursleys, for ever making him believe anything different.

His power was always with him, even when he didn't realize it, helping him and caring about him. His power didn't need to be a person for him to talk to it, to thank it, because that's what you did when someone or _something_  helped you, you said thank you, even if they don't realize that they did.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you,  _thank you",_ Harry repeated, hugging himself tighter with each time he did, and he imagined that he could feel arms around him, that his power was hugging him back.

Something banged against the cupboard door, the sound of wheels squeaking against the floor following, and voices that he didn't recognize started talking loudly, forcing his attention back to what was happening outside, the sound of sirens finally reaching him.

"Mrs. Dursley, you need to calm down. Your husbands’ blood alcohol levels were over the legal limit, and I'm sure that this is nothing more than a case of him coming home drunk and passing out. Well give him a round of IV fluids and probably keep him overnight for observation, but just from examining him now, he looks fine. You and your son can come with me and ride along with him in the ambulance in the hospital."

Harry crept closer until he could lay his ear on the door, listening with wide eyes at everything the woman was saying. There were a lot of words that he couldn't understand, but what he was able to make out made him realize that maybe he had pushed Vernon back harder than he thought, not that he didn't deserve it, but he didn't think he would have to go to the _hospital._

He stayed where he was, listening against the door until the sounds of sirens had faded and the house was silent.

_Now what am I going to do? There's no way that Vernon won't remember that I pushed him, and blame me for putting him in the hospital._

_I mean,_ he thought, moving to sit down, _it kind of_ is _my fault, but I don't feel guilty because he shouldn't have hurt me, so that's that, but I can't stay here anymore, because who knows what he'll do to me the next time he sees me. He's probably only going to be in the hospital for a few days, maybe, and...and I can't even run away._

Harry really didn't know what he was supposed to do. He had to leave, but he _couldn't_ leave, but he also couldn't _stay,_ because he was not about to wait around to see if Vernon would break his arm again, or worse, but if he tried to run away again he would just be brought back, _again._

He sighed, running his fingers back and forth in the dust on the floor, going between the small space lit by the sun and the shadows.

Shadows...

What if his power could make him like a shadow? Shadows were everywhere, they were just _there_  and no one ever really noticed them. Almost like they weren't even there...

What if _he_ could be like that? If Vernon didn't notice him, couldn't see him, didn't know he was _there_ , then how could he hurt him? It would be like...it would be like he had just disappeared! And if no one could see him, maybe he wouldn't even have to _live_ with the Dursleys anymore, maybe he could just stay in the park or the library, and just come back to get food...he would work the rest of it out later, but this was perfect!

Now he just had to figure out how to make it happen.

Harry laced his fingers together and thought as hard as he could.

_I know you just fixed my arm, but please, please, I wish you could make me like a shadow, make me disappear so that Vernon won't be able to see me. I wish I was a shadow. I wish I was a shadow._

Harry's head was starting to hurt, and he could feel his heart racing, his breathing picking up to match it, but he didn't open his eyes, didn't stop focusing, just repeated himself one last time out loud.

" **I wish I was a shadow."**

As soon as he finished speaking he fell over, dizzy and panting.

He stayed there, forehead pressed to the floor and eyes squeezed shut until he started to breathe normally again, and the room stopped feeling like it was spinning even though he was sitting still on the floor.

He was starving, exhausted even though he had just woken up, and he felt like he had just finished spinning around in a hundred circles, but he couldn't stop smiling.  _Something_  had just happened, there was no doubt about that, now all he had to do was believe in his power and hope that it had worked.

Harry pushed himself up on shaky arms, his stomach growling and gnawing on his insides like Ripper with his favorite bone, and when he was finally sitting up straight again he felt something brush against his arms. He quickly turned his head to see what it was and got smacked in the face by his hair for his efforts.

 _Wait, hair? How could it be hitting me in the face, when it just barely touches my shoulder...?_ Harry trailed off, caught off guard by what he saw spread on the floor around him.

There was hair,  _everywhere_ , and he didn't mean just lying on the floor, but still attached to his head and pooling on the floor on either side of him.

 _Wow,_ Harry thought, picking up a piece and pulling on it. When he felt an answering sting on his head, he realized that he wasn't seeing things.

_I guess becoming a shadow comes with super-fast hair growth? Or did this happen when my arm got fixed? How did I not notice this until just now? And I know I said that it might be useful to grow my hair out like Rapunzel, but I never actually thought I really would._

Harry finally stood up and marveled at the extra weight he could now feel attached to his head. He swung his head back and forth and laughed as his hair swished around in the air around him. He opened the door and walked into the living room, picking a piece up to see how it looked in the light. It gleamed a nice bluish - black, and it was soft.

 _And long._ Harry realized as he grabbed another piece, making sure to do it gently this time, and saw as he held it against his arm that it was longer than it.  _This is going to take some getting used too,_ Harry thought as he made his way to the kitchen, _but I like it, so that's fine._

* * *

 

Harry walked out the front door a few hours later. After eating most of the fruit in the kitchen and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and taking a nap, he felt energized as he started walking down the now familiar path to the library.

Once he was inside he headed straight to where he had found the language book from a few days ago, and started looking for one that would be able to teach him German.

He didn't see any books that would be able to do that in the first bookcase, so he moved on to the second, and then the third when that one proved to be just as useful.

It was when he reached the 4th bookcase that he struck gold, and he reached up, stretching his arm as far as he could when he spotted the book he needed on the 5th shelf, but it was just out of reach.

 _This,_ Harry thought, straining his arm up higher and higher,  _is not working. Please, book, do you think that you could come out, just a little further so that I could get you?_ Harry asked, and just like that, it did.

The book shimmied itself out of its spot on the shelf, and fell with a small thud into Harry’s outstretched hand.

Harry held the book in his arms and squeezed it close, barely resisting the urge to hold it up in the air and spin around with it when he realized that he didn't need to speak out loud to get his power to respond, he could just  _think_  what he wanted to happen. 

 _I don't want to go back to my usual spot,_ Harry thought as he made his way over to the front of the library where the tables were,  _at least not today. Today, I need to see if my wish worked._

Harry turned the corner around the last bookcase and walked into the open space that held the tables.

Normally, there were only 2 or 3 people sitting around reading books, but today, there were two groups of 6 spread out unevenly among the 8 tables.

Harry looked around and then headed straight for the table that held the most people, two girls, and two boys, all older than him.

They were paired up sitting in the seats on either side of the table, leaving the seat at the head of the table empty. This was the seat that Harry went to, and when he reached the table he sat down, setting his book down in front of him.

None of the other people at the table looked up at his sudden appearance, and they all continued their quiet conversations as if nothing had happened.

Harry waved his hand in front of the faces of the people closest to him, but no one looked up.

Harry sat back, feeling like he could almost burst from how happy he was, because his plan had  _worked._ Now Vernon wouldn't be able to get him, and, he realized with an extra burst of giddiness, the person watching him wouldn't be able to _see_  him anymore. Later, he would see if he would be able to run away, but for right now, he had a language to learn.

He scooted back and pulled his legs up on the chair, setting the book up so that it was on his lap, leaning against his legs.

Looking at the cover, Harry noticed that it was apparently part of a series because the title read  _Learning Languages Volume 6: German._

_I guess that means if this book is good, I can just learn some more languages from the other volumes._

Harry opened up the book to the first page, and let the sounds of the quiet conversations going on around him fade out into background noise.

He stopped there when he remembered something he had seen on TV one night a few months ago, when the Dursleys had forgotten to turn it off before going to bed.

It was a show that had a man talking to a big group of people about some type of business. Harry didn't remember the whole speech that the man gave, but he did remember the one line that stood out and stuck with him until now.

The man said that the first step in succeeding with something that you’re doing is to visualize yourself accomplishing your goal. You have to tell yourself, and  _see_  yourself doing what you set out to do, and if you do that, success is guaranteed.

Harry took those words to heart, and it was with that mindset that he had tried to leave the Dursleys the first time, and even though that attempt failed, it wasn't because of how he was thinking, but because of someone else.

So Harry continued to think about the man’s words through everything that happened after, and since he was able to get where he is now by thinking like that, he knew that it wouldn't fail him now.

Harry cleared his mind, and imagined himself knowing, writing, and speaking in German, and while he was doing that, he repeated to himself,  _I will learn this. I will learn this. **I will learn this.**_

When he finished the last repetition, though, the strangest thing happened. Harry felt his head start to tingle and his hands started to _glow,_ the light staying in them for a few seconds before going into the book.

Harry stared at the book in bewilderment, eyes wide as it started to glow white, softly at first, and then gaining intensity with every second that passed.

 _What's going on?_ Harry thought, and he was forced to close his eyes when the glow grew too intense. He tried to let go of the book, but his hands wouldn’t move, and he felt an intense pressure in his head before everything faded to black.

* * *

 

Harry groaned as he woke up, noticing as he did how strange his voice sounded as he slowly uncurled from his position around the book, holding his head as gently as possible as it pounded harder from just that slight movement.

His head felt like it was about to pop, and just when the pressure got worse, and it felt like it really was, it suddenly stopped.

He slowly lowered his hands, blinking the stars out of eyes, and just when he thought it was done he had one last spike of pain, making him squeeze his eyes shut, and then Harry’s mind was assaulted by a flood of information, and he realized that his voice sounded weird because he was speaking in  _German._ He was speaking in German, and he understood everything that he was saying!

Harry opened his eyes again and saw that he was still in the library, but that he was the only one there, and that it was obviously passed closing hours. The lights were off, and instead of the sunlight he was expecting, moonlight was streaming in from the uncovered windows at the front of the library.

_I fell asleep? No, that doesn't seem right.  I was getting ready to read the book, and then...and then it started glowing! That's right, I was just about to read the book when it started glowing and then my head started to hurt, and then everything turned black._

_So I fall asleep or whatever for a couple of hours, and then I woke up speaking German?_ Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at the book that was leaning against his chest, odd glow gone. _My power must have done something._

Taking the book in hand he opened it up to a random page. He looked down and realized thathe could _read_  the passage written in German there.

 _So it really is true,_ Harry thought, moving to get out of the chair he was still sitting in,  _this...this is amazing! I can't believe that I can do something like this! An entire language learned in a couple of hours, this is unbelievable._

Harry started to spin around with the book clutched to his chest, a huge grin on his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he was that his power could do this.

He held the book out in front of him and started dancing around to an imaginary song, his hair swinging with him. He spun between the tables, laughing as loud as he wanted since there was no one there to see him or tell him to stop.

 _This is amazing! But I have to make sure to be careful with it, and I can't use it all the time._ Harry stopped as he thought about how horrible the pain in his head had been, _I mean, if just doing it this one time made me sleep for so long it has to take a lot out of me, and I'm hungry again, which never happens. I'm always fine after just eating one time a day._

Harry stopped in the middle of the tables, rubbing his stomach as he really thought about what this new power of his meant for him.

_This is a great way to learn languages, but I have to be responsible with it. I can't just do it anywhere I want, its pure luck that no one found me this time since I was just sitting there. The next time I do this, I have to make sure that I'm somewhere safe, where no one can get me._

_And, this is the most important part, can I still speak English?_

Harry felt the smile drop off his face to be replaced with a frown. He was still happy about everything, but it would be a big problem if he couldn't speak English because he had a bunch of other languages filling up his head.

_Well, there's only one way to find out._

Harry cleared his throat and got ready to speak for the second time since he woke up in the library.

“Mein Name ist Harry.”  _No, that’s not right. Ok, one more time._

“Mein Name ist Harry.”  _Still not right, but the third time is supposed to be the charm, right?_

“My name is Harry.”  _Success!_

_Ok, now that I know that I can still speak English, that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about._

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and let his smile return to his face, but he didn’t let the fact that he didn’t have to worry about that anymore make him forget everything else.

_I have to make sure to always remember to be careful. I don’t want to keep using this power like its nothing and end up experiencing some kind of horrible side-effects later. This is my mind I’m dealing with, so I can’t even take the chance that I might mess it up._

Harry nodded to himself and went to go put the book back on its shelf. With that done, he turned around to take in the darkened library and decided that he would stay there for the night.

_There are definitely worst places that you could end up sleeping in than a library, and now that I think about it, I think that chair at the librarian's desk has cushions on it, so that’ll be much more comfortable than sleeping in a regular wooden chair, or the floor._

Harry walked over to the librarian’s desk, and stepped behind it, finding the cushioned chair, and a box labeled  _Lost and Found_. He knelt down next to the box and looked inside of it. There was a ball cap, key ring, a black and white striped scarf, and a pair of small black gloves.

He picked up the gloves and was surprised at how soft they were. They weren’t cotton or leather, but some other kind of soft material and they looked and felt finely made.

Harry had never owned, or even worn a pair of gloves before, so this was a new experience for him. He pulled the gloves on, one after the other, and saw that they fit perfectly.

 _These are really nice,_ Harry though, flexing his hands and curling them back and forth,  _it would be fine if I kept them, right? I mean they did come from a lost and found, so that just means that they were lost, but now they’re found._

_Yes, I think I will keep them, them and the scarf. They'll come in handy when it's winter again._

Harry wrapped the gloves up in the scarf and went over to the librarian's chair to sit down. He sat down in the chair and curled up, hugging his legs to his chest as he placed the bundle between his head and the cushioned back of the chair.

Harry decided that a small nap wouldn’t hurt, especially considering the fact that, even though he was asleep for most of the day, he didn’t feel rested at all.

He closed his eyes, and his final thought before he fell asleep was a thank you to his power.


	7. A man named Al

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overheard conversation, a mysterious letter, and the perils of London buses.

"Are you sure that the freaks' gone?"

"It's been almost three weeks since you came back from the hospital, and I haven't seen him since!"

Harry watched as Petunia paced back and forth in the living room, Vernon watching her from the couch.

It _had_ been just about three weeks since he was in the house, at least as far as Petunia knew, and that was because, as it turns out, Vernon _did_ remember that Harry had pushed him into the wall, and he was not happy about that, _at all_.

.

.

 _It was a few days after Vernon had been taken to the_ _hospital,_   _and Harry was at the house getting something to eat when he heard a car pull into the driveway. He looked out the window to see what was going on, and hid, well, stood in the corner of the living room, which was the same as hiding since no one could see him, once he saw that it was Petunia, Dudley, and Vernon who were coming out of the car and about to get in the house._

_As soon as Vernon got inside he went straight to the cupboard door and wrenched it open, a loud bang ringing out from the force of the doorknob hitting the wall. Vernon stuck his head in as far as it could go before he whipped back around, face as red and angry as Harry had ever seen it as he looked around the living room. Harry held his breath as Vernon’s eyes passed over him, letting it out when Vernon cursed and rushed into the kitchen, and Harry knew without a doubt that he was looking for him._

_"Where is he?!" Vernon sputtered, spit flying from his mouth._

_"Who dear? I don't-"_

_"Who else?! The Boy, where is he?!"_

_"I don't know, maybe-"_

_"I won't rest until I beat every bit of freakishness out of him!"_

_"Vernon, please, you need to calm down, the doctor said-"_

_"I don't care about what the bloody doctor said! That freak is the whole reason I was in the hospital to_ _begin with! I won't rest...wo_ _n't_ _rest..." Vernon wheezed out, face nearly purple as he started to lose his breath._

_Petunia rested a hand on his back as she tried to calm him, helping him sit down on the couch as Dudley stood by the front door, dumbfounded with his mouth hanging open as he watched his father._

_The front door was still open, so he quickly made his way back to the kitchen to grab some fruit before he left._

_._

_._

All that had happened a while ago, and Harry had been staying at the library since, only coming back every Sunday when he knew the house would be empty to fill his backpack up with food, and wash up.

He wasn't going to risk staying at the house when there was a chance that he might accidentally say something out loud or make a noise. Those were the two things he had found out by accident, after a run in with the librarian where he bumped into a table (an encounter that surprised Harry, and apparently more than surprised the librarian, judging by how loudly he screamed when he saw Harry suddenly standing in front of him), could still make someone see him until he was quiet again.

Because it was like Vernon was obsessed with finding him. Every time he tried to sneak inside to get food when it wasn't Sunday, Vernon would be there, not at work, but searching the house, like he was expecting Harry to just pop up when he turned the corner, repeating over and over again how he was going to "beat the freakishness out of him".

And Harry didn't want to imagine what would happen if Vernon ever _did_ find him, so he had been making sure to keep his visits quick and short. 

Unfortunately, the Dursleys had decided to come back early this Sunday. So now he was stuck listening to Petunia and Vernon talk about him, instead of finishing what he had been doing before they came home early, which was making something special for himself to celebrate his birthday.

"If he's gone any longer will that other one come? The one that left him with us? The Dumbl..bumble...Bumblebee freak?" Vernon asked, running a hand over his head, and Harry found himself moving forward without thinking, trying to hear them better, because what were they talking about?

"That wasn't his name, it was Al, Al-"

"It doesn't matter what his bloody name is!" Vernon swore, on the verge of shouting as he sprang up off the couch, flinging his arm out and making Petunia and Harry both flinch back away from him, "All those freaks are the same, one might as well be the other! What I need to know is if he's going to come to my home again!"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Petunia shouted back, nervously wringing her hands together, gradually getting quieter as she continued to speak, "he said we had to keep him with us, but how would he know if we lost him?"

"I knew we shouldn’t have taken him in! He's been nothing but trouble since the beginning, the freak son of _your_ freak sister." Vernon spat, getting visibly more agitated as his voice grew louder, and Petunia rushed to grab his hands, trying to calm him down as she glanced up at the stairs.

"Shh! We'll wake Dudley."

"I!"

"I know, I didn't want to either, but he warned us that if we didn't take him-" Vernon held a hand up, cutting Petunia off as he walked towards the window, peeking outside before he roughly drew the curtains close and tied them shut.

"We'll just keep an eye out. I'll keep the shotgun by the bed. We just need to act like nothing's changed."

"That's right, nothing’s changed, everything's normal."

"That's right, we're a normal family, with a normal home. Everything is normal."

Petunia and Vernon continued to reassure each other, but their voices faded into the background as Harry backed away into the kitchen, his mind racing, because they _knew._  

All this time they had known who left him with them, who was making sure that he _stayed_ with them. He couldn't believe that he never thought that they might have known before.

But that didn't matter, what _did_ was that the man, Al, knew that the Dursleys didn't want him, and he _still_  made them keep him. He had to know the Dursleys weren't good people, if not when he first met them, then when he realized that he had to bring Harry back to a _cupboard,_ because that was his _room_ , but still, he forced them to keep him, he even _warned_  them, so he had to be willing to do something bad to them if they didn't take him, but why?

Why would he do all that to him? Harry had been with the Dursleys for as long as he could remember, so Al must have given him to them when he was a baby, so what could he have done to deserve being with them? Nothing. _Absolutely_ _nothing_.

This Al, whoever he was, was worse than the Dursleys. He was nothing more than a bully, hurting Harry just because he could, and Harry hated bullies, almost as much as he hated the cold.

_I might not know who you are or what you look like, Al, but now I know your name, even if it's just part of it, and I promise that I'm going to find you, and make sure you can never hurt me again._

Harry always kept his promises, and that wasn't about to change now.

* * *

The air was warm, the sky gradually lighting up in brilliant shades of red and orange and gold as Harry watched the sunrise. He was sitting on the steps of the library, a gentle breeze blowing his hair around behind him.

He wasn't really sure why he had started doing it, but ever since he had started staying at the library almost 2 years ago, he always made sure to watch the sunset from inside, and to be outside to watch the sunrise in the morning.

He stood up and stretched once the sun was fully in the sky, getting ready to go inside before the librarian got there, when he stopped.

There...was a bird in the tree right across from him, one that he had never seen before, and it was big. Actually, it kind of looked like the picture of an owl that he had seen when he was reading a book about animals, which was strange enough, but what was even stranger was that it looked like it was watching _him._

He stepped to the right, and the bird’s eyes followed him. He stepped to the left, and the bird's eyes followed him.

This would be one thing if the bird could see him, but it _couldn't._ He knew his shadow power was still working, so how was the bird following him? And where had it even come from in the first place?

Curious, he walked up to the tree it was perched in, its eyes still following him, and ran in a circle around the tree to see what it would do.

And what it did was one of the coolest things he had ever seen, because its head turned _completely around_  to follow him.

"Wow, I had read that owls could do that, but it's so much better seeing it in person," Harry laughed, and the owl fluffed its wings out when it heard him speak, cocking its head to the side before it flew off the tree, a few leaves falling to the ground when it did.

Harry looked up, watching as it flew in circles a few times above him, before it pulled at something on its side and a piece of paper came loose. He stretched his hands up to catch it, and by the time he did the owl had flown off, becoming nothing more than a fading brown speck against the bright blue sky as he watched it.

"That was exciting, and weird, but mostly exciting! Now, what is this...?” The paper in his hands looked like an envelope, but it was heavier than he was used to, and it didn't look or feel like any piece of mail he had ever seen before. 

The paper was kind of soft, and there was a big red spot of wax holding it closed, a big H in the middle of it. He flipped the letter over to its front, and almost dropped it when he saw, written clearly in dark green ink in fine cursive, the words  _Mr. Harry Potter,_  and directly under that, _Surrey Public Library._

_That's my name! Wait, how is that my name? And it even has the library on it? But, an owl gave this to me._

Harry looked at the letter, front and back, over and over again, but no matter how many times he did nothing changed. He was still holding a letter addressed to him at the library. It was still given to him by an _owl_ of all things, and he still had no answers.

And he wouldn't have any until he opened it, would he?

Harry broke the seal on the back of the letter and pulled out the paper from inside.

"Let's see, Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry... _what_? “ Harry brought the letter closer to his face, but the words didn't change, and he read the rest of it, his voice sounding as confused as he was.

"Dear Mr. Potter, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted, accepted? How? At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1st, we await your owl by no later than July 31st. That's my birthday, and its only a few days away, no, that's not important. What does she mean by owl? Like the owl that gave me the letter?" Harry asked, but the letter didn't answer.

As he was thinking about the issue of the owl, the rest of the letter caught up with him, and his mind started to race.

_Witchcraft and wizardry, witches and wizards, that means magic! So that means that the power I have is called magic...and there's a school that teaches you how to use it? That's amazing!_

Harry felt a smile break out on his face. Magic, he had magic, and that meant that he was like the sorcerers and magicians in the stories that he read.

He looked down at the letter to read it again, but he found himself pausing at the very beginning of the first piece of paper, and a frown soon replaced his smile.

_This is real, right? I mean, I don't know how else an owl would manage to deliver this letter to me, or how someone would know my name and where I've been staying...wait, what if this is a trick from Al? But if he knew where I was, why wouldn't he have put me back with the Dursleys? And why would he be sending me a letter in the first place?_

Harry paced back and forth, rereading the letter as he thought.

And the more he thought about it, the less likely it seemed that Al was behind the letter. It just didn't make sense for him to send a letter telling Harry to go to a school, when this whole time he'd been trying to keep him with the Dursleys.

_So this must be real, and it makes sense that if you go to school to learn how to read and write, then you also have to go to school to learn about different ways to do magic. There have to be so many more things to do with it than what I've been doing, and I can't wait to learn all of it!_

Harry sat down on the last step of the library as he read the second page of the letter.

It was a list of supplies that he would need, each one stranger than the last.

_So, if there are things that each student needs, then there has to be magical stores where you can buy everything. Magical stores, and probably houses, and libraries! I can't even imagine how amazing a magical library must be._

Harry had to take a moment to daydream about what one would be like. Would the books fly? What if they could talk? He laughed as he imagined a book reading itself to him, making different voices and sounds like the people who sometimes came to the library to read stories in the children's corner.

 _But where am I even supposed to go to get everything?_ Harry looked over the letter again, and saw that it said that everything could be purchased at "Diagon Alley", and that there was an entrance to it through the back courtyard of a place called _The Leaky Cauldron_  on Charing Cross Road.

_Well, that answers that. I know where to go now, but I can't leave, so how am I going to get there? Or can I?_

Harry hadn't tried to leave again after the first few times he had tried and failed, but that had been almost two years ago, so maybe he would be able to leave now?

_And I just got this letter, so that has to mean something. I can't go to Hogwarts if I can't even leave Privet Drive, and unless Al doesn't want me to go to the school either, which I wouldn't put past him, I have to be able to leave._

"I won't know until I try, right?" Harry folded the letter up and put it back in the envelope, hopping off the steps and walking to the sidewalk.

He started walking, keeping an eye out to try and see if he would be able to spot Al following him, but this early in the morning there was no one else outside, and he was alone.

The further he walked, the more he looked around, even walking backward when he got to the point where he didn't recognize where he was anymore, but nothing happened.

He ducked behind a nearby bush and scanned the street, but besides a cat crossing the street, there was nothing. 

By now, he knew that he had walked further than he had ever gone before when he tried to run away, but he was still outside, not back with the Dursleys, and not in the cupboard.

He moved away from the bush, and just to be extra sure walked two more blocks, and nothing happened.

He wasn't being brought back. _He wasn't being brought back!_

Harry laughed out loud, not caring who heard him, so happy he felt like has about to _burst!_

He was finally free of the Dursleys, of Privet Drive, and hopefully of Al too.

"Now, all I have to do is figure out how to get to the _Leaky Cauldron,_ and how hard could that be?"

 

* * *

 

A few hours and sneaking on to who knew how many wrong buses later, Harry realized that the answer to that question was very hard indeed. This was his first time actually getting _on_ a bus though, and since he was finally at Charing Cross Road, he decided to consider this a success.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead, wishing that he had something to tie his hair back with. He was also regretting the fact that in his excitement he forgot to go back to the library to grab his backpack, which had his only bottle of water.

All he had was his letter, now slightly wrinkled, and that was it.

But on the bright side he could see the sign for the _Leaky Cauldron_ up ahead, and just thinking about what was waiting for him on the other side was enough to push all other thoughts out of his mind.

Harry pushed the door open, and was greeted by a sight that looked like it would have fit right in with any of the fantasy books that he had read while staying at the library.

The inside was dimly lit by candles floating in midair, and it was packed with people in pointy hats and long robes in all sorts of colors, sitting at long tables and standing up, eating, drinking, and talking. Jugs of water were floating in the air, pouring themselves into upturned cups, and instruments were playing themselves in the corner.

The air was alive with the sound of clinking dishes and conversations that Harry couldn't make heads or tails of, and he loved it. There was no doubt that everything he was seeing was magical, and that proved that the letter wasn't fake.

At the table closest to Harry, a man was sitting by himself with a cup of tea the only thing on the table, stirring the spoon inside it by just twirling his finger in the air above it, a newspaper in his other hand. The newspaper turned to the next page by itself, and from where he was standing Harry was able to see that the picture on the page facing him was...was  _moving_!

Harry stared at the picture, eyes wide. He moved closer to make sure he wasn't seeing things, until he was close enough to touch the table, and saw that yes, the picture really  _was_  moving. The words underneath the picture declared the moving figure to be a Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart. As he watched, Lockhart seemed to wave at him every few seconds, each wave followed by the flash of what looked like cameras going off.

Harry blinked in surprise and smiled, big enough to rival Lockhart who continued to smile and wave at Harry from his place in the newspaper.

He started to giggle, unable to contain his happiness, and had to quickly slap his hands over his mouth when the newspaper started to move to the side, the man holding it trying to get a glimpse of who was laughing so close to his table.

Harry waited with bated breath as the man stared straight at where he was standing. Time seemed to stop until the man's gaze simply slid past the spot where he was, looking right through him as he scanned the area around him.

After a few more seconds of this, the man huffed out a breath and brought the newspaper back to its previous position in front of his face.

Harry breathed out a sigh of relief before slowly lowering his hands from his mouth. He knew that he didn't really _need_ to keep himself hidden anymore, but it had become a habit to keep as quiet as possible so that he wouldn't be found out at the library, so he wasn't sure how easily he would be able to stop.

But, was it really okay for him to stop? Until he found out who and where Al was, it was probably better that he kept doing things the way he had been.

Having decided to be more careful, Harry spent the next little while drifting around the room from conversation to conversation, listening in on everything that caught his attention to see if he could learn anything, and poking at the floating dishware he could reach to see what would happen after he did.

He had moved on to looking at a woman's hat, getting closer and closer to it. He was trying to see if the bird nesting in it was real, when he noticed a group of people at the table closest to him getting themselves together to leave. Each person dropped a few large silver coins onto the table after they all stood up, the table giving off a soft blue glow before the coins all disappeared.

It didn't look like any type of money that he had seen before, but it made sense that magical money would be different from regular money, but still, what an odd way to pay for a meal!

_So you just drop your money on to the table and then it’s gone? I wonder what stops someone from just not paying…_

Harry looked away from the table and started to follow the group when he noticed that they were all heading to the back, and not the front where the entrance was.

_The letter did say that the entrance to Diagon Alley was in the back, so that must be where they're heading._

He realized he was right when the group all headed towards a door in the back that they all walked through, Harry included. They walked through, only to end up in front of a brick wall. The small space outside the door offered nothing more than that, and a few pieces of paper laying crumpled on the ground.

Harry was about to break away from the group to explore further, because this couldn't be it, there had to be some secret entrance that he had missed. But just as he was about to, he saw the woman at the front of the group take a pretty pale brown stick with a pointed end and black handle out of her pocket. The woman started tapping on random bricks on the wall, and then the most amazing thing happened.

The brick wall _opened,_  all the bricks folding back on themselves like the curling edge of a flower petal with a small grinding noise.

Harry gasped, sound small under the grinding of the bricks as right before his eyes a new world seemed to open up. It was like the air was filled with a soft light, and a sense of wonder and warmth.

A warm gust of wind followed behind the last brick folding away, and it was like he could _feel_ the magic in the air.

Harry eagerly followed after the group when they started to walk inside, his eyes practically glowing from how excited he was. He took his first steps into the magical world, and couldn't help but think that he was also taking the first steps into a better, brighter chapter of his life. Maybe even the real beginning of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albus' name isn't on Harry's Hogwarts letter. Other than that, and the mention of how to get to Diagon Alley, it is the same as the original, being signed by Minerva as Deputy Headmistress.


	8. Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting with a familiar stranger, and a daring owl rescue.
> 
> "We'll meet again, in a life after this."

Walking through to the other side, Harry was struck by the feeling that he had walked straight into a scene from a fairy tale.

Owls were flying through the air, some holding small packages, and it was crowded, people everywhere dressed the same as the ones in the _Leaky Cauldron._ There were even groups of kids all holding letters like his, grins on their faces as they walked around together, going in and out of shops with some of the strangest names that he had ever seen.

Harry walked around, head swerving from side to side, wishing that he had more eyes. Two just wasn't enough when he was almost spinning around in circles, trying to see everything at once.

He stopped when he heard a hoot and looked to the side, rushing over when he saw that the noise was coming from a bunch of owls in cages in front of a store. They were all different sizes and colors, one small enough that it looked like it would fit in the palm of his hand. It was the largest one there though, that really caught his attention.

In the cage closest to him was a large brown owl with tan spots, almost as big as the cage it was in, feathers nearly bursting out. Yellow eyes watched Harry closely as he put his fingers on the cage, looking for a way to open it.

"This is so horrible. Why would someone put you in a cage that's too small for you?"

The owl was silent, tracking his hands when he folded his letter and put it in his pocket, hooting softly when he went back to the cage, both hands now free to look for the latch. He found it hidden amidst the owls’ feathers, and he didn't hesitate before pulling the cage door open, helping the owl out.

The owl climbed onto his arm, sharp talons going easily through his shirt and almost piercing his skin, but all of that didn't mean anything compared to the fact that he was actually holding an _owl._ Harry marveled over how soft its feathers were, running his fingers down its wings and over the little tufts peaking up over its eyes.

It caught hold of one of his fingers, hard beak nipping it gently, and Harry couldn't believe that someone thought it was okay to stuff the owl inside a cage that was too small for it. It just wasn't right, so it was up to him to fix it.

"You're free now, okay? _Fly safe_!" Harry stood up, holding the owl close to his chest when he almost fell over because of how heavy it was. He held his arm out, and the owl turned to him, hooting softly in goodbye before it took off, nearly knocking him back down to the ground with how strong its wing flaps were.

He watched it fly away, waving goodbye, and was almost knocked down to the ground, _again,_ when a man came running out of the store behind him, cursing as he too, watched the owl fly off.

Very carefully, Harry crept away as the man began searching for who let the owl free, thanking his shadow power when his eyes passed right over him.

 _If he didn't want someone to set his mistreated owls free, he shouldn't have left them outside for anyone to get to,_ Harry decided, watching the man a little longer before he turned around and continued exploring.

He ended up in front of a store with a few other kids, looking at the  _Nimbus 2000._ He was wondering why a broom of all things was special enough to be put out on display, when, reflected on the glass, he saw a crowd of people starting to gather around a shop.

Harry turned around and walked towards the crowd. They were all in front of a store called  _Flourish and Blotts._ He stood on his toes, straining up as high as he could, trying to see what had captured everyone's attention, but, unsurprisingly, even doing that he was still too short to see anything.

He thumped back down to the ground, hands on his hips as he thought about what to do next. He wasn't tall enough to see past the crowd, but he _was_ small enough to try and push his way through it.

It seemed to take forever, but soon enough Harry stood in front of the store. The windows were filled with books out on display, but what seemed to be the focus of everyone's attention was a sign offering a deal for all first-year Hogwarts students. It said that all the books would be sold in a set at half price, in honor of the savior of the wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived, starting his first year at Hogwarts.

_Savior of the wizarding world? Now that sounds like something straight out of a storybook. I guess this world really is as magical as it seems. But what's a savior? Savior, save, is that like a hero? Wow, I can't believe that someone the same age as me managed to save a whole world. I wonder if I'll get to meet him at Hogwarts..._

Busy thinking about the mystery of the Boy-Who-Lived, (again, what kind of name was that?) it took Harry a second to realize that he was looking at _books,_  as in a magical bookstore, which meant magical books to read!

He pushed himself towards the door, a bell ringing out merrily when he walked in.

Inside the store was brightly lit, and just as packed as the outside, and Harry gasped when he saw just _how_  the shop was lit. Hanging from the ceiling by silver strings were oddly shaped crystals in every color, balls of light floating in the air, lighting up the shop and reflecting off the crystals, throwing off a rainbow-colored light that dazzled Harry.

Someone bumped into him, cutting his observation short and pushing him further into the store. Harry decided to just go with the flow, and got pushed along until he ended up at the back of the store, near a large counter taking up most of the wall.

A man stood behind it, accepting books and coins (he was right, the coins  _were_ magical money) from the long line of people. Harry watched, amazed, as he tapped the books with a dark brown stick, making them suddenly grow smaller, until they were no bigger than a stack of matchboxes

The longer he watched the man though, the more he couldn't help but wonder _why_  the man was using a stick in the first place. It seemed a little, well, strange. Harry didn't use a stick when he did magic, and his magic worked just fine. But maybe...maybe he had to use a stick to do specific things, like opening the magic doorway and making books small. 

Still, wouldn't it be easier to just do magic the normal way? It seemed kind of unnecessary, at least to him, that he would need a stick to do some things, but he _had_ just discovered the magical world, so what did he know? Nothing! Which was why he needed to get his hands on some books.

Harry turned around, ready to head back towards the front, when he saw that there was an arch in the middle of the wall behind him. 

Apparently, the store was bigger than he thought. 

There were steps leading down from the part of the store that he was standing in, and into another part of the store that looked like it held a seemingly endless maze of bookcases.

Harry slowly walked down the steps, a sense of awe filling him at the sight of so many books. He might be wrong, but it looked like there were even more books here than at the library.

He honestly didn’t know where to start, and as he stepped off the final step, his trainers sinking slightly into the plush red carpet, he figured that since he needed to know everything, anywhere was a good place to start.

The balls of light from the front of the store were in here too, so Harry reached out to touch one. It was warm in his hands, like someone had balled up a beam of light from the sun and asked it to come inside.

He let it go, and it hovered in front of his chest before moving to float over his shoulder, and Harry felt a little burst of happiness at the fact that the light had decided to stay with him.

He had never realized that magic could do something like this, too, and he was eager to try and make his own. Not to mention the fact that now, he would never need to worry about not being able to read in the dark, or stubbing his toes whenever he tried to walk around the library at night, which, for the record, was not fun. At all.

Walking over to the nearest bookcase, the light bobbed near his shoulder like a supercharged firefly, glinting off the words on the spine of each book. Harry took down the first three books that caught his eye, humming softly to himself.

First, he pulled down  _A Muggleborns Guide to the Wizarding World,_ because even though he didn’t know what a muggleborn was, (maybe it was a word for someone new to magic?), a guide was a guide, and sure to help him.

Next was  _Who’s who, A Self-updating Record of Important Figures in the Wizarding World,_  because even though it might be a long shot, Harry hoped that he might be able to find Al inside it.

Harry hesitated before reaching for the next book, confused by what he was seeing. Was that, was that his _name?_

He slowly pulled the book down and turned it over to its front. There, written in gold lettering on a bright red cover, were the words that might as well be squiggly lines for all that they made any sense.  _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived: A Brief History._

It...it _was_ definitely his name, but that didn't make any sense. How, and more importantly, _why_ , would his name be on a book? A book in the _magical world_? And wasn't the boy-who-lived the hero who saved the wizarding world? 

He was being silly. It was just a coincidence that there was someone with the same name as him, and who was _also_ going to Hogwarts at the same time as him. There had to be hundreds, no, _thousands,_ of people in the world who had magic, maybe even more, and Harry was a pretty common name, so this had to be about one of those other Harrys. A Harry whose last name was also Potter...

Strangely enough, the more he thought about it, the _less_ convinced he was making himself. No matter how he tried to explain it away, he just couldn't really believe that what he was thinking was the truth, and he had a feeling that he was right not to.

 _Well, there’s only one way to find out._ Harry sat on the floor right where he was, the light orb following him as he settled down with his back leaning against the bookcase, setting the two other books on the floor next to him.

He turned to the first page, and got ready to unravel the mystery of the book that had his name on it.

* * *

 

Harry closed the cover of the last book,  _A Muggleborns Guide to the Wizarding World,_  and sighed, setting it off to the side on top of the others. He curled his legs in close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and resting his chin on his knees.

He closed his eyes, the floating orb now a dull glow behind his closed eyelids, and tried to organize his thoughts. He had just finished reading all three books that he had chosen, and he was feeling more than a little overwhelmed by everything he had just learned. He needed to think things through before he did anything else, starting with the fact the first book really _was_ about him.

But not...not the real him. The Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world wasn't Harry, but some made up hero version of him. Harry sat up and picked the first book up again, flipping through the pages.

Only the first few pages talked about the attack on Godric's Hollow, the place where he and his parents lived before they were killed by someone called You-Know-Who, even though he did _not_  know who. The rest of the short book was about the end of a magical war that he was somehow responsible for, but what really caught his attention was how the book ended.

He flipped to the last few pages and read them over again, frowning. The book ended with an interview between the author and a man named Albus Dumbledore. A man who put the war being over on Harry. A man who was the reason he was famous in the first place, telling everyone that he survived the killing curse. A man who claimed that Harry was in a safe place.

A man who Harry was almost completely certain was Al.

Vernon and Petunia had called the man who gave him to them Al Bumblebee, but they didn't seem like they really remembered what his name was, and after everything he read, in this book and who's who, he was sure that Al Bumblebee was actually Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore, who was also the headmaster of Hogwarts, which worked out perfectly for him. He wanted to look Dumbledore in the face, and see for himself what kind of person would do everything that he had done, to someone he called a _hero_. He was going to look Dumbledore in the eyes, and finally get to ask him _why_.

Why him? Why the Dursleys? _Why_ _everything._

And if Dumbledore _didn't_ tell him, wanted to pretend like he didn't do anything wrong, that would be fine. Whatever Dumbledore did or didn't say wouldn't change the fact that Harry knew the truth.

He would go to Hogwarts, finally get his answers, and then leave. Harry was going to learn more about magic, there was no question about that, but he refused to learn it in a school that Dumbledore was in charge of. There had to be other magical schools, and even if there weren't he would find some way to teach himself. But one thing he absolutely was _not_ about to do, was to let Dumbledore interfere in his life any more than he already had.

He wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived or the savior of the wizarding world. He was just Harry, and he wasn't going to let anyone tell him what to do or decide how he should live his life, _especially_  if that someone was Dumbledore.

_Now that I have that all figured out, I want to do something fun. I don't want to spend my first day in the magical world upset because of Dumbledore, so I won't._

_I want to be happy and excited again, so I should!...I'm not actually sure. Maybe I'll go back outside and finish exploring Diagon Alley, and then come back here and read some more books. It's a good thing I have my shadow power. My scar doesn't look anything like the book says it does, so I don't think anyone would recognize me anyway, but still, I feel better knowing I don't have to worry about being seen._ Harry picked up the other two books that were next to him and stood up.

_I should probably go visit the bank first, actually, and see if my parents might have left me any mo-_

"Woah!"

Just as he stood up, Harry was pushed back, hand flying out to grab on to the shelf closest to him, barely managing not to fall. 

The boy who ran into him wasn't as lucky, lying flat on the ground in front of him, keeping the books that had flew out of Harry's arms company.

He wasn't making any moves to get up, just lying there with his eyes closed. Harry got his feet back under him and crept closer until he was standing over the boy, crouching down to get a better look at his face.

"Um, are you okay?" Harry asked, barely resisting the urge to poke the boy's cheek to see if that would make him open his eyes, his question not enough to even make him twitch.

If Harry didn't know better, he would think the boy was sleeping.

"Trying to decide if it's worth it."

"Worth it?"

"Getting up," the boy answered, finally opening his eyes to look at Harry. They were the same color as a tiger’s eye marble he had found at his school.

"Well, the carpet _is_ pretty soft," Harry said, looking away and pressing his hand down on the carpet, testing out how soft it was, "but I don't think it'll be that comfortable if you plan on laying down on it for a while."

Or would it be? He needed to see for himself.

Harry laid down next to the boy, hair fanning out on the floor around him, and pushed the books out of the way. He wiggled around a little, getting comfortable, before making his decision.

It was nice, better than the one in the library, but he didn't think he would want to sleep here, just based on the carpet. On the other hand, the carpet _was_ in a magical library/bookstore, so that did kind of change things...but he would still want something to lay his head on.

"At the very least you need a pillow or something for your head, so it probably is worth it. What do you think?"

Harry turned his head, so now he and the boy were looking at each other, eye to eye. 

The boy looked from Harry to the floor, both eyebrows raised in surprise before he laughed, wincing like he was in pain after he did, bringing his hand up to rub at his temple.

"I think, that I should be getting up."

"You should. Here, I'll help you," Harry stood back up and leaned down, hands out ready for the boy to grab on.

The boy sat up, leaning back on his elbows, eyes darting back and forth between Harry's face and his hands, lips pulled down in a frown. He reached one hand out, then stopped, hand hovering in the air above Harry's.

Harry tilted his head to the side, hair swaying with the motion, watching the boy curiously, wondering what was wrong. He looked at his hands, but they were clean. 

Did the boy think that Harry wasn't strong enough to pull him up? He knew he wasn't the strongest person around, and that he didn't look like he could hold anything more than maybe an overly stuffed pillow, but come on, he could help somebody up off the floor.

He was just about to say something when the boy sat up completely and finally grabbed his hands, and when he did it was like suddenly remembering something important that he had forgotten.

He felt like, like he _knew_  the boy, could've sworn that they must have met somewhere before, even though he knew that that wasn't true.

"Have we met before?" The boy asked, brows furrowed, apparently feeling it too.

"No, but it kind of feels like we have. It's like I know you from somewhere, but I can't remember where."

"Huh. Interesting."

The boy let go of his hands, dusting himself off before bending down to pick up the books still lying on the floor. He looked at each one before holding them out for Harry to take.

"So, you're a muggleborn?"

"No," Harry said, taking the books and putting them back on the shelf. He knew from reading the books that he was apparently a "half-blood", but the whole blood thing didn't really make any sense to him. Magic was magic. You either had it, or you didn't, and he didn't see how blood had anything to do with that.

The boy looked from the guidebook he was sliding back on to the shelf to Harry, his raised eyebrow asking, very clearly, 'Then what were you doing with those books?'

Harry didn't like lying, but he couldn't just come out and say, 'Oh right, by the way, I'm Harry Potter, and this is my first time in the magical world!', so he decided to have a little fun and, not _lie_ , but tell a story, pretending to be somebody else.

"I've lived in a tower in the middle of a forest until very recently, so I'm just trying to learn as much as I can," Harry said.

"Really." The boy said flatly, looking at Harry like he didn't believe a word he was saying.

"Yep! I've been trapped inside of it for as long as I can remember, but I managed to escape, and so here I am." Harry chirped brightly.

"I can't imagine what that must have been like." The boy said, a small smile on his face. He didn't _look_  like he believed Harry any more than he did a few seconds ago, but it did seem like he was willing to play along.

"There were lots of birds. And squirrels. I wouldn't really recommend it, but enough about _me_. Have _you_ been here before?"

"Here? Do you mean  _Flourish and Blotts_?"

"No, Diagon Alley."

"I have, why?"

"Have you ever explored it?" Harry asked, stepping closer to the boy without realizing it. He blinked at Harry, clearly taken aback by the unexpected question.

"I just said-

"I don't mean visit, I mean _explore_. Have you ever wandered around to see how many new things you can discover?" Harry felt excited just thinking about it.

"No-"

"Do you want to? With me? I mean, only if you don't have anything else to do."

"I don't." The boy crossed his arms, looking at Harry, contemplative.

"Then, do you want to come with me? Doesn't it sound like it'll be fun?"

"I…you know what? Sure. If nothing else it'll make for a good distraction." The boy mumbled the last few words to himself, shrugging and reaching a hand up to rub at his temple again.

"I'm Blaise." The boy, now Blaise said, and Harry grinned. Just like that, he had his very own personal guide, and someone to explore Diagon Alley with, _all_ without giving away who he was.

"Rapunzel."

 

* * *

 

"You really  _are_ new to all this, aren't you?" Blaise asked, narrowing his eyes as Rapunzel came back into focus.

He appeared again next to Blaise, running his hands along the various trinkets out on display, excitement popping against his barely-there occlumency shields in happy little bursts like tiny fireworks, making Blaise want to smile despite his gradually worsening headache, Rapunzel's uncomplicated happiness not enough to act as a buffer against the hordes of people jamming themselves into Diagon, their emotions blaring sirens when all he wanted was quiet.

Blaise had yet to see the shopkeeper, and he wouldn't be surprised if they turned the corner in this shop that was barely bigger than his mother's concert shoe closet, and they just appeared in front of them, like Rapunzel seemed to be unknowingly doing.

It didn't take long for Blaise to realize that unless they were talking, Rapunzel faded into the background the second Blaise looked away from him. He was only able to keep track of him by his emotions when he faded from sight, which made the journey to where they were now, the second shop that Blaise hadn't know existed until today much more interesting than it might otherwise have been.

Rapunzel didn't seem like he noticed anything was wrong, so Blaise didn't say anything. That didn't stop him from trying to figure out what was going on though.

"I am. I guess it comes with being trapped in a tower," Rapunzel turned to him with a grin, kaleidoscope held up to one eye. His attention was quickly caught by what he was seeing, both hands twisting the kaleidoscope as he looked around the shop with it.

"This is amazing! Look, Blaise, you have to try it out!" He held the kaleidoscope out to Blaise, happiness bright and zinging like the first taste of a lemon drop, and he couldn't help but get caught up in it, when at any other time, all he would be feeling after spending any amount of time around someone who wasn't his mother, was annoyed.

That was the other strange thing about Rapunzel, how familiar he felt. They had only known each other for maybe an hour, and he felt more like he was spending time with one of his cousins, and not a complete stranger.

If he had any experience with one, he might have compared the feeling to hanging out with a friend, but he didn't have any. He hated people, hated how loud their emotions were and how they insisted on crowding around together.

The only thing that made his monthly, "necessary evil", trips to Diagon that his mother insisted on, in a vain attempt to get him to work on his shields, was being able to visit the ice cream and candy shops, distractions big enough that he was able to ignore his pounding headache that being surrounded by so many people always gave him.

He took the kaleidoscope and put it back on the table, not wanting to combine his headache with the disorienting colors he knew were waiting inside. "Maybe later. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Rapunzel said, looking around the shop, and at the kaleidoscope in particular, one last time. "I wish I could buy that...oh! Right, do you think you could show me where the bank is?"

Blaise looked at him curiously, leading the way out. He didn't believe Rapunzel's story about living in a tower, but it was obvious from how he was reacting that everything _was_ new to him, so why would he need to visit the bank if he was alone, and had never been here before?

"Sure."

"Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something? What are these signs for? I've seen them in all the stores we've passed and gone into." They were standing outside the shop now, Rapunzel pointing at the large anti-werewolf sign hung at the side of the display window, the snarling face of a werewolf snapping at them obscured by a large bold red X crossing it out.

"It's a sign telling werewolves to stay out. It lets them know that they aren't welcome, and that there are detection and expulsion wards set up if they try to come inside anyway."

"Werewolf? What's a werewolf?" Rapunzel asked, looking at him blankly.

"A werewolf is someone who turns into a wolf with the full moon." The last thing Blaise expected was for Rapunzel to react to what he said with a burst of pure curiosity that felt like thousands of tiny hands, poking and inspecting him.

"Are you serious? That's so cool! I can't believe there's magic that lets you turn into an animal," Rapunzel was looking at his hands as he spoke, flexing his fingers like he was imagining paws taking their place, "but why are there signs telling them that they can't come inside?"

"It's because werewolves are considered dark creatures. They don't choose to turn into wolves, they're cursed."

"What's a dark creature? And what does turning into a wolf when there's a full moon have to do with not being allowed inside all these stores? The signs are in every store, which means they can't go inside any of them. Where are they supposed to go to buy things?" Rapunzel asked, clearly affronted on their behalf.

"Dark creatures are creatures that the ministry says are dangerous, and I don't know. I never thought about the signs before, they were always just there, and they don't affect me, so I don't really care."

"But you said that werewolves are people, not creatures, and how can turning into a wolf make someone dangerous? It's only for one day! And just because of that they can't buy things? That isn't right. I would love it if I was able to turn a wolf, but if I did I would suddenly be a dangerous creature? That doesn't make _any_ sense. Full moons are just for one day, so every day besides then they're just people."

It was kind of funny seeing Rapunzel get so worked up, the base hatred and disgust that people usually had whenever they even heard the word werewolf completely absent from him. If anything, it looked more like he was about to start giving a speech about how unfair things were for them. What was far less funny, though, were the looks of disgust that were being shot his way from those standing within earshot, and the mutters of monster lover that Rapunzel didn't seem to hear. Though even if he did there was a pretty even bet that he would either ignore it or embrace it, and Blaise was leaning towards it being embraced.

Blaise just shrugged. He didn't have any answers to the questions Rapunzel was asking. This was mostly because he just didn't care about werewolves one way or another. The rest of it was that this was just the way things were. Everyone hated werewolves, so no one was asking any questions about how they were treated, and if it was fair or not.

"What do you want me to tell you? Stupid people make stupid rules, and the ministry is full of stupid people. As long as they make the rules, that's just how things, ow, are." Blaise ducked his head down, covering his eyes and rubbing his temple, the pain from his headache spiking until it felt like nails were being driven into his head.

"Are you- no, you're not okay. Um, hold on, we should move someplace quieter..." Rapunzel grabbed his elbow, steering him around until they left the main road, ducking into a quiet, dark space between two shops.

"What's wrong? Is it your eyes?"

"Head." He managed to grit out. Rapunzel was worried about him, concern warm and wrapping around his head, muffling things just a little.

"Okay, um, could you move your hands? I think I might be able to help." Rapunzel's hands on his were as warm as his concern, moving them away without waiting to see if Blaise would do it himself.

Almost before he knew what was going on Rapunzel's hands were on his forehead, covering it and his eyes completely.

"What are-?"

_"Pain, pain, fly away, please be gone, please don't stay, please just fly away."_

As Rapunzel spoke the warmth coming from his hands grew stronger and stronger, a soft golden light flaring behind his closed eyelids. On the last word, he flung his hands away, miraculously taking his pain away with them.

Blaise blinked his eyes in disbelief, but the pain was actually gone. Finally, everything was quiet, and his head didn't hurt at all.

"Did it work?" Rapunzel asked, watching him anxiously.

"It..did.." Blaise whispered, still reeling from the sudden absence of pain.

"Good. I wasn't sure if it would. I've only done that one time before for a bird whose wing was broken, so I'm happy that it worked for you too." Rapunzel breathed a sigh of relief, worry quickly transforming into happiness.

Blaise was still trying to understand what had just happened. How had Rapunzel healed him without a wand? No, not even that, how had Rapunzel healed him at _all?_ He didn't cast a spell, all he did was speak.

The silence and his thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of Rapunzel's stomach growling.

"Ah, sorry. I haven't eaten all day, and I only got hungrier after doing that." Rapunzel told him, a sheepish grin on his face as his hand rubbed his stomach.

"It's fine, here, you can have this. They're crystal pineapples’. It's not food, but it's better than nothing."

"Thank you!"

Blaise pulled the case of sweets out of his pocket and handed them over to Rapunzel, watching as he opened it and hummed in surprised delight after eating one, which was quickly followed by more. Giving him that was the very least he could do after what he did for him.

"How-" Blaise started to ask, but he was interrupted by his two-way mirror vibrating in his pocket. Of all the times for his mother to decide to she was ready to leave, did she really have to choose now?

He waited until it stopped before taking it out, annoyed. There was a message waiting for him, telling him what he already knew and where to meet her, and he rolled his eyes, shoving it back in his pocket.

Blaise didn't have any choice about leaving now, no matter how much he wanted to stay and question Rapunzel. It was no secret how eager he was to go home after every trip, and if he waited too long before going to meet his mother, she would just come to him, and he was not in the mood, not that he _ever_ was, to deal with how he knew she would react to Rapunzel.

He was exactly the type of person that she loved, and one look at him and she'd probably try and take him home with them. And from what he knew of Rapunzel, regardless of how long they had actually known each other, there was a good chance that he might say yes, just because.

"Come on. I have to leave now, but I'll drop you off at Gringotts before I go."

"Gringotts? Oh! The bank, right, thank you. Are you sure you have to leave? We barely got to see anything..." Rapunzel trailed off, looking around as they walked to the bank, eyes lingering on the werewolf signs.

"I do, sorry," and surprisingly enough he actually was. He had been having fun with Rapunzel, right up until the end when his headache got in the way.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" Blaise asked.

"Definitely."

"Then we can meet up again tomorrow, at _Flourish and Blotts_ around 4. We can explore some more then, and get ice cream, my treat."

"Really? Okay, that sounds awesome! I've never had ice cream before. I'll see you tomorrow then." Blaise watched Rapunzel wave goodbye to him as he walked up Gringotts white steps, until he couldn't see him anymore.

Today was nothing like what he thought it was going to be like, and he hoped that tomorrow would prove to be more of the same. And with someone like Rapunzel, that hope was practically guaranteed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on making Pinterest boards for this fic and the characters, would anyone be interested in them?


	9. All that is gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goblins and werewolves and Kneazles, oh my! ft an attempted kidnapping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the wonderful comments, they're a big part of what's motivating me to write this story. And thank you for all the feedback on the chapter length. Longer seems the way to go, so I'll stick with how I've been writing. Also, if anyone wants to give me names, I'll use them in the story. 
> 
> I'm visiting family in Pennsylvania for the week, and their internet is very iffy, so I'm posting this chapter on my phone, so I'm sorry for the late update. For future reference, I'm going to try my best to update this story on Monday every week, so you can look out for new chapters more regularly from me now.
> 
> And on a completely unrelated note, my birthday was on the 8th, and I want to wish everyone with birthdays this month a Very Happy Birthday! May all your wishes come true, and I hope you have a great day!

Harry waved goodbye until Blaise turned away, a huge smile on his face. He was pretty sure that he had just made his first friend, and he was so,  _so,_ happy!

From the moment he got to Diagon Alley, only good things had happened to him. From finding the bookstore, figuring out who Al was, and meeting Blaise, to exploring Diagon Alley. And he even had candy!

He popped another crystal pineapple in his mouth, the small box nearly empty, and started to hum softly, making up a song as he walked towards the large bronze doors of the bank.

 _Wow, these are_ heavy, Harry thought, pushing at one of the doors. Using all his meager strength he pushed harder, just managing to open a gap wide enough to slip through.

The door closed silently behind him. He was in a small hallway now, with another set of smaller silver doors at the end. He got ready to push these ones open too, shaking out his arms and almost sending the rest of the candies flying, when he saw that there were words on the doors.

Harry traced his fingers along the words, mouthing them to himself.

**_Enter, stranger, but take heed_ **

**_Of what awaits the sin of greed_ **

**_For those who take, but do not earn,_ **

**_Must pay most dearly in their turn._ **

**_So if you seek beneath our floors_ **

**_A treasure that was never yours,_ **

**_Thief, you have been warned, beware_ **

**_Of finding more than treasure there._ **

_Well, this is a bank, so it makes sense that they would want to warn people that they shouldn't try and steal from it._ Harry thought, before pushing open the far lighter silver doors. Behind the doors was a huge marble hall, enormous golden chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

Walking through the doors left him feeling weird and almost...tingly? He shivered, trying to shake away the odd sensation. Harry looked at his hands, then the rest of his body, pushing up his long sleeves to see his arms, but everything looked fine.

 _That must have been the magic of the bank that I was feeling,_  Harry decided,  _the magic that they use to make sure people can't steal things, maybe._

There weren't too many people there, so it wasn't long before he was standing in front of one of the counters.

"Um, hello?" Harry called out. The counter towered over him, and he looked up, wondering how this was supposed to work, when a voice rang out above him, low and gravely.

"Step back."

Harry did, a small, strange looking man coming to the front of the counter when he did. He had wispy silver hair and black eyes. His nose was long and pointy, his ears following its example. The guide  _did_ say that goblins ran the bank, and Harry was sure that he was looking at one.

He leaned over the counter, staring hard at Harry, and Harry stared back.

"Yes?" The goblin said, frown firmly set on his face.

 _"_ I just wanted to know if my parents left any money for me here."

"Name?"

Harry looked around, making sure that no one was near enough to hear him, before leaning in closer to the goblin and whispering, "Harry Potter".

The goblin looked down at him, disdain clear on his face, sneering as he leaned further over the counter to get a better look at Harry. He pulled a tiny pair of glasses out of his breast pocket, putting them on and tapping them. They flashed blue, the goblin sitting back after it did, looking, not  _happier_ , but slightly less angry.

He gestured Harry over to the side and walked down until they were eye level with each other.

He moved in close, only a few inches of space between them, and Harry, figuring he should do the same, leaned in too, until they were practically nose to nose. The goblin let this go on for a heartbeat, stepping back with a huff and using one long boned finger to part his hair to the side.

Harry blinked at the touch, stepping back himself, confused.

_What is ...oh, right. The scar. But I just told him my name, does he think that I'm lying? He must, since he wants me to show it to him, but that's so weird. Why would I lie about who I am?_

Harry paused, rethinking his last thought. There were more than a few good reasons why he  _would_ lie about who he was, actually. But! This was not one of them.

"It's kind of hard to see. Hold on," he pushed his hair off his forehead so the goblin could see better, feeling around until he touched the small bit of skin that felt smooth.

His apparently famous lightning bolt scar, described as being large, red, and taking up most of his face in the book, was actually tiny. It sat high over his left eyebrow, normally completely hidden by his hair, and that was even  _before_  it grew long. Faded to the point that it almost blended into his skin, you could only see the slight silvery sheen it gave off when the light hit it.

"There, is that better?"

The goblin nodded, eyes narrowed, and Harry let his hair fall back to cover it up. Harry frowned back. The goblin  _still_ wasn't happy. Maybe he was having a bad day? He wasn't sure, but it felt like he was missing something.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked.

"If you would follow me." The goblin walked down the last few steps, completely ignoring his question.

"Where are we going?"

"To Griphook, the manager of the Potter family account."

"Oh, okay, thank you. And what's your name?"

The goblin paused in the act of removing his glasses, looking at Harry in faint surprise.

"...Ironclaw." He said, putting the glasses away and crossing his arms, back to staring at Harry.

_He must be having a bad day. Maybe a piece of candy will help?_

"It's nice to meet you Ironclaw," Harry looked down at the box in his hands, before holding it out to him, "candy?"

Ironclaw looked at the box closely before gingerly picking one of the candies up, holding it up to the light and turning it back and forth.

"It's a crystal pineapple," Harry added, helpfully.

He gestured for Harry to follow him with his free hand. They headed towards a door behind the counter, flanked by two more goblins dressed in red and gold, holding spears. "I am aware, thank you."

Ironclaw finally ate the candy, pursing his lips slightly.

They walked down the hallway, Ironclaw eyeing the box of candies until he stopped at one of the doors.

Harry held out the box, offering him another one, but Ironclaw ignored him in favor of knocking briskly on the door three times. The door was opened as soon as he finished by another goblin. He was dressed in a suit just like Ironclaw, and was bald, with the same glasses that Ironclaw had put on earlier perched on the bridge of his pointy, beak-like nose.

He looked from Ironclaw to Harry, glasses flashing blue when his gaze landed, and stayed, on him, making Harry realize that he could see him, even though he hadn't spoken or made any noise.

"You can see me?" Harry quickly added on when both goblins gave him a look that very clearly said 'Obviously' _,_ "Not now, I mean before I spoke."

"Gringotts has certain measures in place that are,  _more,_ than sufficient enough to remove whatever illusion, or disillusionment, you may have cast on yourself before entering."

"Oh, that makes sense. It's to stop people from trying to steal from you, right? I was wondering why I felt weird and tingly after I walked through the doors with the words on them...so that's why," He said the last few words to himself, fingers tapping on the candy box. He reached inside to take one out and stopped, looking up, hand still in the box when he felt eyes on him.

"You felt-" Ironclaw was watching him, eyes slightly wider, before Griphook cut him off, saying something to him in a harsh, guttural language that made Harry think, oddly enough, of rocks being ground together.

"And this is?" Griphook asked after, as if nothing strange had just happened, giving Harry a contemplative look.

"Harry Potter," Ironclaw answered, keeping his eyes on Harry.

"Name."

Harry looked at Griphook, confused when he realized that he was asking  _him._ "He just said-"

"Name," Griphook repeated, cutting him off.

"I'm Harry Potter?"

"Are you not sure?" Griphook kind of, it wasn't a smile, it was more like he bared his teeth at him, like if he answered wrong he might  _bite_  him.

 _Was everyone having a bad day?_ Harry almost offered him a candy too, but he felt like it wouldn't work out as well as it did with Ironclaw, so he just answered the question.

"I am sure."

"Very well then. Follow me."

Griphook walked back into the room that he, actually, hadn't stepped out of this whole time, without waiting to see if Harry was following.

"Thank you for helping me," he told Ironclaw, hurrying after Griphook, not wanting the door to close on him, waving goodbye to him as he did.

Harry felt the weird tingly sensation again when he walked into the room following behind Griphook. Even though he knew what it was now, it didn't make it feel any less strange.

There was a chair in front of the large ornate desk that Griphook was already sitting behind, so that was where he sat, swinging his legs idly back and forth, his feet not touching the ground.

Griphook snapped his fingers, making a small stack of papers, a long thin box, and a smaller square box appear on the desk. He opened the long box and took out a large, blood red feather, handing it to Harry as he slid the first paper from the stack over to him.

 _Should I say thank you?_ Harry turned the feather over in his hands, feeling how soft it was, and peering curiously at the sharp bit of metal attached to the end.  _I mean, it is a very nice feather, but what am I supposed to do with it? Put it in my hair? If I had a hat I would stick it in it, and then I would look like a pirate, but I have a strong feeling that he doesn't want me to use it to give myself a pirate hat._

_And what is this paper... Oh! That's my father's name, and a bunch of other names. They all have the last name Potter...are these people my family? But why are there lines through all the names?_

_"_ What's this?"

"Those are all the previous heads of the Potter family. If you would sign your name here," Griphook tapped one long finger at the space underneath  _James Potter, "_ I can give you the family ring, and grant you full control of the account as the new Head of House."

"What do these lines mean?"

"That is to indicate that the signee is deceased."

"Deceased...so they're dead, right?"

"That is correct. You are the last surviving direct descendant of the Potter family line."

Harry knew what the answer would be even before Griphook confirmed it, but he couldn't help feeling sad. Knowing that his parents were gone was one thing, but to finally know once and for all that he really was alone, that it was just him, and there was no one looking for him, just, just made him feel  _ugh_.

 _But on the bright side, that just means the reason no one ever came to get me, wasn't that they didn't want me, or that they couldn't find me, it was because there wasn't anyone to_ do _the finding._ Harry reasoned, trying to cheer himself back up.  _And I can't do anything about that. I just need to focus on what I have to do now._

"What am I supposed to sign with? And what's a head of house?"

"A Head of House is one who is in charge of a family household.

You sign with the quill after pressing the end of the nib to one of your fingers, allowing it to draw the blood needed to sign your name."

Harry looked at the sharp bit of metal at the end of the feather again, and back up at Griphook. Did he run out of pens?  _And_ pencils? And how was that even supposed to work?

He pressed the end of the feather to his finger, and watched, amazed, how after a slight prick of pain, blood actually did start to run up the clear middle of the feather, until it was the same color as the rest of it.

_Well, that answers that. And now for the hard part. How do you write with a feather?_

Harry carefully pressed the nib to the paper and wrote his name. It was strange seeing the letters and knowing that it was his blood, and also kind of cool.

His name came out just as bad as he thought it would, his handwriting looking similar to when he had first learned how to write, and how Dudley no doubt still wrote.

_If this is what they use to write with in the magical world, I'm going to need to practice. A lot._

When he finished with the last letter, the feather pen almost empty of his blood, his name flashed gold, startling him and making him flinch back. He leaned back over the desk when the glow had faded, and saw that his name was now printed in black on the paper, and dry, like he hadn't just written it.

Griphook took the paper, and the feather, looking the paper over before placing it back on the stack. He looked at the feather, and the tiny bit of blood left inside, and then back at Harry, before snapping his fingers again.

This time, a small bottle appeared, filled with a black liquid.

He pulled the top off the bottle and squeezed the feather until the last drop of blood welled up at the end. Harry watched it grow heavier until it dropped off the nib and fell into the bottle. Griphook picked it up and swirled it around, the liquid in the bottle slowly changing from black, to looking like liquid light, shimmering like an opal.

"Hm, like your father before you, and his father before him. Not a mere echo, no, but a  _trait_. Tell me, child, do you know what your bloodline is descendant from?"

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. He was talking about blood, and his father, so was he talking about his parents? Was that what the bottle was for, to make sure that he was telling the truth about being Harry Potter?

"My parents?"

Griphook gave him a look, rolling his eyes as he put the bottle back on the desk and closed it, snapping his fingers again and making the bottle, feather, and the first piece of paper disappear, leaving Harry to wonder if his answer was right or not.

"Do you have the key to your vault?"

"No. And what's a vault?"

"Why, do you  _insist_  on acting as though you know nothing about the magical world?" Griphook sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's because I don't," Harry told him, matter-of-factly. That didn't seem to make Griphook feel any better though, since he just sighed again, a severe frown on his face.

He picked up the stack of papers, shuffling through them before pushing a few towards Harry, snapping his fingers.

This time coins appeared on the desk. A single gold coin, a couple smaller silver coins, and a large number of brown coins, smaller than the silver and gold ones.

"A vault typically contains precious artifacts and money owned by a family or individual, entrusted to Gringotts for safe keeping. This," Griphook tapped the gold coin, "is a gold Galleon. It is the most valuable, equal to 17 silver sickles," he tapped on the silver coins next," or 493 knuts."

"A Silver sickle is worth 29 knuts, and a single bronze Knut is equivalent to a British penny."

"Here is a list of all the current holdings of your family vault, including all properties within your possession. You also have this, "Griphook handed him another piece of paper and the small box, "the Potter family signet ring, worn by each Head of House."

He opened the box, examining the large ring inside, "Am I supposed to wear it? It looks too big to fit any of my fingers."

"You can, but the purpose of the ring is to seal important documents with the Potter family coat of arms, so you can choose not to as well."

He closed the box, relieved to hear that he didn't have to wear it. It seemed important, and he didn't want to risk losing it because it slipped off one of his fingers.

_I can probably buy a chain or something later, so that I can wear it around my neck, instead._

Harry looked over the list and saw that besides what looked like a lot of money (the exact amount didn't matter, as long as it looked like he would have enough to buy food, and whatever else he might need, like that kaleidoscope, or new clothes) he also had two houses, the one that him and his parents had lived in at Godric's Hollow, and the Potter Family Ancestral Manor, located in Wimborne.

_I can't believe that I have a whole house! Just for me! Well, two actually, but I'm definitely not living in the house that my parents were killed in, so that leaves the Ancestral manor in Wimborne, where ever that is. Now all I need to do is find out how to get there._

_"_ A key does exist, but since you obviously are not in possession of it, it will need to be reclaimed. Sign here," Griphook handed him another feather, this one a light blue and much plainer than the other one, and another piece of paper.

Harry signed on the line, reminding himself again that he  _definitely_  needed to practice writing with a feather, because wow, it looked  _horrible._

He laughed when a heavy metal key popped out of the paper when he finished, quickly covering his mouth and trying to be quiet when Griphook let out a noise of disgust. That didn't really help though, since he only ended up laughing harder at the long-suffering look Griphook gave him, but at least this time it was slightly muffled.

"Mr. Potter, that is your vault key. Keep it with you at all times and  _please,_ make every attempt to not lose it. This is a bottomless pouch that you can fill with funds from your vault. The pouch is warded against theft, and only you will be able to access your funds through it. Simply put your hand into the bag, imagine the amount that you want, and you will have it. Will that be all for today, or are you ready to visit your vault?" Griphook said, sounding like he expected the exact opposite to be the case.

Harry stood up, picking up the key and taking the small purple drawstring pouch that Griphook held out to him.

"I'm ready to go. Thank you for the pouch, and the key. I just have  _one_ more question. Only one! How am I supposed to get to the Ancestral manor?"

He put the key, ring box, and pouch into the pocket that didn't have his letter, Dudley's old cast-offs more than big enough to hold them all. Griphook huffed a little, before standing up as well, gathering up the papers spread across the desk before making them disappear with another snap of his fingers.

"You can get there through the floo network," Griphook explained, and at Harry's uncomprehending look, sighed before adding on, "The floo network is a network of connected fireplaces. You throw a handful of green powder into an active, connected fireplace, causing the fire to turn green. Only  _after_  it does can one step into the fireplace, while clearly stating a destination, that they will then arrive in," he continued.

"Really? You travel by walking into a fireplace? That's amazing! Where can I find a connected fireplace?" Harry asked.

It seemed like every second he was learning something new about the magical world, his latest find being that people apparently traveled by magical green fire.

The magical world was so exciting!

Griphook walked towards the door, motioning for Harry to follow behind him, speaking as he walked.

"Most shops in Diagon Alley contain fireplaces connected to the network. A handful of powder goes for 2 sickles," Griphook said.

They walked to the end of the hallway, towards the rumbling that was growing stronger the closer that they got. They turned the corner and stepped on a platform that lowered as soon as they did.

Harry looked around, their surroundings getting darker and more cave-like. The platform stopped, and a strange contraption on wheels, with two seats attached, rolled to a stop in front of them when it did.

"What's this?"

"A mine cart. Get in, and hold on."

Harry did, Griphook stepping past him to stand behind the wheel. They started to move, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed. And as they started to descend, a deafening roar shook the walls around them.

" _What is that?"_  Harry turned in his seat, yelling to be heard over the noise.

Griphook gave him a bloodthirsty grin, leaning in close, before yelling just as loud, " _A dragon."_

To which there was really only one response Harry could have had.

" _Dragons are real!?"_

* * *

Harry skipped out of Gringotts and down the marble steps, smiling wide, the thrill from the second cart ride that he had finally convinced Griphook to take him on, and seeing a dragon, (a real live dragon!) nowhere close to fading away.

Though that didn't stop him from thinking over the strange thing that Griphook had said to him just before he left.

_At least he told me that I should come back to him if I had any more questions. I think I heard him grumbling that he would much rather I bothered him, if the only other option was me listening to 'ministry fed fools.'_

_But what did he mean by saying that he hoped I "honored the promise of my blood"? And that goblins have long memories? That was so weird, and random. I mean, unless he can talk to blood, and mine told him something. But if that's what happened I'm not sure what he expects_ me  _to do about it. It's not like I know what it said-ow._

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his stomach, which had decided to remind him, painfully, that it wanted food, and not just candy.

He looked around, but none of the shops that he had passed by earlier looked like they sold food. He turned around and saw that Diagon Alley was split in two by the bank, and that it continued on two separate paths, one to the left, and one to the right.

Harry decided to turn down the left path and walked down the street. The stores in this part of the Alley were all painted in dark colors, the signs looking old and worn.

The people that he saw all wore black robes, and seemed determined to get where they were going, without being stopped. All in all, the mood in this part of the Alley was darker, and more serious, like the night to the other parts day.

He was looking at each store sign as he passed it by, and he didn't get far down the path before his eyes stopped on one sign in particular.

The store was painted in shades of black and purple, and the windows were fogged over. The sign over the top of the door declared the shop to be  _Em's Extraordinary Exotic Creatures._

_What is that? A magical pet store? They really do have everything here. I know that I came down here to look for food but...it won't hurt to look around for just a little while. I'll just take a quick peek at what's inside, and then I'll leave._

Unlike the door to the bookstore, this door opened quietly, and Harry quickly slipped inside. Inside the store was dimly lit and everywhere Harry looked he saw cages, crates, and glass containers, all holding the strangest creatures that he had ever seen.

There was a small counter against the wall towards the middle of the store, and the woman behind the counter had her head bent down and cradled in one hand, the top half of her body slumped over a book. She didn't seem to have noticed him come in, because she didn't look up.

Harry wandered further into the shop, looking at everything, before he stopped abruptly, caught by a pair of gleaming purple eyes. He walked towards a small silver cage and bent down to get a closer look at their owner.

The eyes belonged to a small kitten, with sleek, silky looking long black hair. The kitten pushed against the bars of the cage as Harry got closer to it, stretching one little leg through the bars towards him, letting out a soft, sweet sounding  _meow._

Harry couldn't have stopped his hand from reaching forward if he tried.

He reached his fingers through the bars and ran his hand along the top of the kittens head, passing gently over its little triangle shaped ears. The kitten pushed into the touch, closing its eyes as it started to purr, and Harry felt his heart just melt at the sound.

The kitten was so small, and beautiful and just...just perfect. Harry had never really played with the neighborhood cats, so he didn't know how to feel about them. But now, now he knew that he most definitely loved them, or at least just this one, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Harry continued to pet the kitten, reading the little card attached to the top of the cage. The card said that the kitten was a boy, 6 months old, and apparently not a cat at all, but a Kneazle hybrid.

_Kneazle, cat, it doesn't matter. I have to have him. I can't just walk out of here without buying him, who could? And he obviously wants to come with me too, he wouldn't be acting like this if he didn't. He's so cute!_

He picked the cage up and carefully carried it over to the counter. The woman was still reading her book, and she didn't look up, not even when Harry was standing right in front of her.

"Um, excuse me miss, but I want to buy something," Harry said, the woman finally raising her head when he finished speaking.

"Oh, I didn't see you there. Hello, I'm Em, what is it that you wanted to buy?" Em yawned, sounding distracted. She had mostly lifted her head up, her eyes still focused on the book she was reading.

"This cat- I mean, Kneazle kitten," Harry said, putting the cage on the counter.

"A Kneazle, huh. They make good pets, though only if they like you. They're super smart and pretty independent, and they can be kind of aggressive. Oh, and they also have an uncanny ability to detect suspicious and distrustful people, and they can also safely guide their owners' home." Em said, turning a page in her book.

"Well, he certainly likes me. How much does he cost?" Harry asked, and at that, Em finally looked up.

She looked just as bored as she sounded, pushing a piece of purple hair behind her ear as she popped a bubble with the gum she was chewing.

"Oh, him? He's a little devil, never let me get near him without a scratch. You said he likes you, right? I'll give him to you for a discount, Merlin knows if I don't sell him now, I probably won't ever. No one wants to buy a Kneazle that  _doesn't_  like them, their appeal is in what they do for you when they do. They can make great familiars," Em said, squinting at the kitten in the cage. He hissed at her when he noticed her looking, and she huffed slightly, before turning back to Harry.

"I'll give him to you for half price, so 65 galleons. You have to leave the cage though. Will that be all?" Em asked, moving her book to the side to make way for the cash register that popped out of the counter as soon as she did.

"You can take him out yourself, but money first," She added, looking at Harry, hand out.

Harry nodded, and then reached into his pocket, feeling around for the pouch. He stuck his hand in, thinking that he wanted 65 galleons. He closed his hand around the gold weighing down his pocket when it appeared, pulling out the first heavy fistful and depositing it on the counter, next to the cage.

Em hummed slightly at the fall of coins, starting to slowly count them out until she pulled the last coin to her, opening a drawer and pulling out a pouch similar to the one Harry had, dropping the coins into it

"That's all of them. You can take him now and go. Thank you for shopping at Em's Extraordinary Exotic Creatures. Have a nice day," Em said, waiting until he did just that, before moving the cage to the floor behind the counter. She put her book back, the register disappearing when she did, and turned her attention back to it, ignoring Harry completely as she slumped back over the counter.

"Thank you, and I hope you have a nice day too," Harry said, gathering the kitten into his arms.

Em waved her hand absentmindedly at him, showing that she heard, but didn't look up, and Harry decided that now was a good time to leave.

The kitten meowed, rubbing his head against his chin. He jumped up to Harry's shoulder, leaning against his neck.

"Well Whisper, that's your name now, I'm happy to have you with me, and I hope you feel the same," Harry rubbed his hand down Whisper's back, enjoying how soft he was.

He left the magical creature shop with Whisper sitting on his shoulder, tail curled around the back of his neck, disappearing completely into his hair. He had spent a good amount of time in the shop, so now the sun was almost completely set, the sky painted in shades of orange, pink, and light purple.

He decided that he had probably just enough time to still find something to eat, before heading over to  _Flourish and Blotts_  to use the fireplace to get to his new house.  _Em's Extraordinary Exotic Creatures_ was located towards the front of this part of the Alley, so most of it was still yet to be explored.

He continued walking down the Alley, noticing as he did that there were far fewer people out than there were before, and that what people who were out had on cloaks with the hood pulled up, hiding their faces.

Whisper pressed closer to Harry's neck, hissing softly whenever someone would pass by too close to them, reminding Harry of how Em said that Kneazle's could tell when someone was untrustworthy, and how they would warn their owners about them.

He decided to pay close attention to Whisper after that, and steered clear of the people that made him have that reaction.

He stopped, looking at what he was pretty sure were fingers,  _human_  fingers, hanging from strings attached to a shabby looking wooden cart. An old woman with warts on her face, and a large wart on her hooked nose was standing behind it, her grey hair peeking out from the scarf on her head.

"Are those  _fingers?_ " Harry asked, stepping closer.

"They are, they are," the woman croaked out, dark eyes gleaming in the low light.

"But, just the fingers? Where's the rest of the hand? And, well, the rest of the person attached to the fingers and hands?"

"Come closer, and I'll show you, dear."

He looked at the woman's outstretched hand, about to move closer, when he felt Whisper  _growl._ It was a deep sound, strange to hear from such a small body, and Harry looked at him, seeing that he was crouched down, gaze intent on the woman's hand.

"Um, no thank you. I'm just going-" he slowly backed away, but in the blink of an eye the woman had a vise grip on his arm, ragged, dirty nails digging into his skin through the sleeve, jerking him closer.

Harry stumbled, trying to pull away, pushing hard on her hand, but it didn't budge.

"Hey, what are you—let go!"

"You're so  _lovely_ , I just want to  _see_  you better," she reached her other hand out, hovering just over his face, and he pulled his head back as far as he could, "Look at those pretty eyes, and that hair, and... _oh, that smell,"_  the old woman dragged his arm up to her face, pulling his sleeve down as she smelled his skin.

 _"_ You're one of  _those,"_ she cackled, grinning with a mouth full of crooked, yellow teeth, "What luck! You'll fetch a  _nice_  price with the right people."

Whisper jumped to the cart, hissing at the woman and clawing at her hand, but she only laughed louder, hissing back at him.

"I said-!"

"I think he's made it very clear that you need to let go."

There was a large hand on his shoulder, pulling him back, and another hand wrapped around the woman's grip on his arm. Harry looked up, and  _up_ , to see that a man had come to help him, gold eyes flashing at the woman.

"This is no business of yours,  _mutt,"_ she spat, trying to pry the man's hand off her, but he only held on tighter, and Harry watched, eyes wide as the man's nails grew long and sharp, piercing the woman's arm, sickly looking blood welling up in the cuts.

She let go with a yelp, and Harry cradled his arm to his chest. He rubbed at the spot she had held, bruise already forming, the man urging him back until he was standing safely behind him.

"What's wrong? We were having such a... _nice_  conversation, don't you think? How about we continue it?" The man asked, grinning at the woman as she grumbled, pushing her cart further down the street as she pulled her scarf down to cover more of her face.

"Hags," the man tsked, shaking his head, "they're so persistent. Only one way to really get them to back off. Are you...where'd you-ah, there you are," the man turned around, looking for him, and surprised Harry when he rested his hand on his head, ruffling his hair. "This invisibility trick is nice, but there's no getting around this nose."

The man grinned down at Harry, thumbing the side of his nose.

_Nose? What does his nose have to do with seeing me?_

"Thank you for helping me, that was just  _really_  surprising. I didn't expect her to grab my arm like that," Harry said, looking up at the man whose eyes were still glowing gold.

"What do you mean by nose? And how did you do that thing with your nails? And your eyes?" The man laughed awkwardly, taking his hand off his head and stepping back, shoving his hands into his pants pockets, looking away from Harry.

Whisper jumped into his arms, butting his head up against his face, and he pet him, waiting for the man to answer his questions.

"That's, ah, well, because I'm a..." The man ran a hand through his hair, looking off to the side, eyes shifting around, visibly struggling with what he was trying to say.

"A..." Harry prompted, trying to help him out.

"Werewolf."

"Really!? Can you really turn into a wolf? Wait, is there a full moon today? I don't remember..."

"You're not scared?"

"Scared? Why would I be scared?"

"You...you really, ha! No, no, forget what I said. I can't turn into a full wolf here, but I can do  _this,"_ the man crouched down, and he was so tall that even like that he was still taller than Harry, showing him the top of his head, "And that thing about the full moon is only for bitten wolves, though it is easier to change in the days leading up to the full moon for natural born."

Right in front of Harry's eyes two furry dog ears grew, pointed triangles the same russet brown as the man's hair.

"Can I touch them?" he asked, eyes wide, hand moving even before the man laughed out his yes. They were as soft as they looked, slightly rougher than Whispers ears, but moving around and twitching just like his as he pet them.

They were  _real._ And he was really talking to an actual  _werewolf_...

"Wait, you're a  _werewolf_."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's no doubt about that."

"Do you need anything?"

"...what?"

"From any of the stores. I know they have those sign, which, you know, is really unfair, I was so angry when I found out what they were, so you can't buy anything from any of them, but if you need anything, I can go inside and get it for you."

"Are you serious?" The man pulled his head back, looking at Harry, incredulous.

"Of course I am! I can even buy it for you. So what do you...um, are you okay?" Harry watched, bemused, as the man let out a weird noise, burying his face in his hands, ears lying flat on his head.

"By the moon, I can't believe that you're real. I must be dreaming. You are so,  _ahh_ , I just want to  _hug you._  I won't," he reassured him, picking his head up to look at him, "because I've been told that I need to work on my impulse control. Which is...a work in progress, to say the least, but! I  _am_ trying, so I won't, even though I really want to. You really are too adorable though. I wish everyone could be like you when they find out what I am."

"So you don't need anything?"

"No, but thank you, truly, for asking. You don't know how much that means to me."

Just then Harry's stomach growled, reminding him again that the only thing he had had to eat all day was a couple pieces of candy, and the day was almost over.

"You know what? Actually, I  _do_  need something, and that is for you to go home, and get something to eat. Knockturn is no place for children, especially after dark. Where are your parents, over in Diagon? I'll take you to them. Or are you alone? And I hope the answer is no."

"No?"

"Okay, that was very  _obviously_  a lie, but at least I have my answer. Come on, a friend of my father's owns an inn here. You can use the floo there, and I'll get you something to eat. I'm Felix by the way, Felix Vaughn."

Whisper hadn't hissed at him the whole time they were near him, so Harry figured it would be okay to go with him. Not to mention he would be solving his food problem,  _and_  his getting to his new house problem too, so that was a plus.

Now, he had used Rapunzel with Blaise, and he  _could_  use it again, but Felix was a wolf! Well, not exactly, but close enough. And the opportunity was too good to pass up...

"Thank you! And I'm Red." Felix looked at him, considering, before he laughed again, shaking his head.

"Red, that's an interesting name."

_Wait, wasn't he able to tell I was twisting the truth earlier? I mean, Whisper's with me, so I wasn't actually lying. And it's not like I can be here with parents anyway. Well, he didn't say anything, so I guess he doesn't mind._

"So what's it like being a werewolf? Can I be one too? Or, oh, I know! Can I turn into a different animal? And what did you mean about bitten and natural born? And the moon! I'm probably wrong, but does a giant live in the sky? Does the moon change every night because he's eating it, and then replacing it with a new moon when he's finished?"

"Aren't you just full of questions? And surprises! Ha! I've never heard anything like that question about the moon. But listen," Felix lowered his voice, putting a hand on his shoulder and keeping him close to his side, "this isn't the best place to ask questions, especially not questions about werewolves. Knockturn's the best place to attract the wrong kind of attention." Felix squeezed his shoulder, rushing to reassure him at his crestfallen look, "I'll answer them, don't worry, but only after we get inside."

"And look, we're already here." Harry did look, but all there was to see was an empty alley between two stores.

"It might not look like much now, but listen, I'm going to tell you a secret," Felix bent down until he was right next to his ear, "keep looking forward. The Blue Moon Inn is right in front of you."

And just like that, it  _was._

Between one blink and the next, a building had popped up in front of them, three stories tall. It was painted dark, just like all the others, but its windows glowed a warm, inviting blue. Harry laughed as he watched a painted on wolf chase a blue moon on the buildings surface, the moon doing its best to hide from it.

"That was so amazing! How did you do that?"

"Magic," Felix winked, "now let's get inside before it gets any later."

There weren't many people inside, but those that were all greeted Felix enthusiastically, with huge hugs and by, strangely, rubbing their faces together.

"I was wondering what could possibly be taking you so long, Alpha, but now I see," a woman hopped off a stool, short blond hair bouncing as she did.

Felix pulled her closer by a hand on the back of her neck, pressing their foreheads together, the woman doing the same, soft smiles on both their faces.

"Who's this little cutie? Where'd you steal him from?"

"Cutie? You mean Whisper? I didn't steal him, I bought him."

"I stole no one! I was a valiant hero, rescuing him from the grips of a wicked old hag."

Harry and Felix spoke at the same time, words running into each other, making the woman laugh.

"Right, right, a true knight of the round."

"Arthur would have been lucky to have me," Felix sniffed, face tilted towards the ceiling.

"He sure would have," She crouched down, elbows resting on her knees as she folded her arms, brown eyes sparkling, "And I was talking about you, love, though your kittens' cute too. What's your name? I'm Emily."

"This is Red," Felix answered for him, pulling him away from Emily and steering him towards the stairs, "Is August around?"

"Kitchen. What's the rush?"

"Sorry, but I don't want to keep him out too late. I just want to get him something to eat, and send him home, as soon as possible."

"I  _guess_  that's a valid reason. It was nice to meet you little Red, even if it was just for a second," Emily waved goodbye to him, and he just managed to wave back before she vanished behind the wood of the stairway.

"We don't really have to hurry, I'm not in any rush."

"I heard that Felix! Were you lying to me?" Emily's voice rang out, heading up the stairs towards them.

" _No!_  Mind your own business! Remember, ears-!"

"To ourselves, yeah, yeah, I know," her voice started to fade out the further they got up the stairs. Harry turned his head, looking back, but she was gone.

They were now on the third floor, Felix walking them towards the second to last door at the end of the hallway. He pulled a black key out of his pocket, opening the door and letting them in, locking it behind them.

"And you, did you think I was joking when I said that it isn't safe for you to be out,  _here,_ so late at night? No one that's here now would hurt you, but that won't stay the case the later it gets. Bad wolves come out at night, and they love to snatch kids like you right up," Felix lit the fire in the fireplace as he was talking, and Harry took a seat on the bed, Whisper curling up in his lap.

"I didn't forget, but none of that is happening  _now_ , so why worry about it? If you're always worrying about things that haven't happened yet, you forget to have fun in the moment that's going on right now, at least that's what I think."

Felix finished shutting the last of the windows, turning back to look at him. "Huh, I never really thought about it like that. But that's beside the point. What do you want to eat?"

"Um, an apple?"

"I said  _food,_  not  _fruit._ "

"An apple, with...toast?" That was what he usually ate, fruit and bread the only things that the Dursleys never noticed going missing, so he didn't understand why Felix seemed so offended by what he was saying.

"What?  _No._ What  _food_  do you want to eat, not a snack, food, you know, like a sandwich or something? If that's what you usually eat, you probably weigh like ten pounds."

"It is, but anything that doesn't have meat is fine, too," he looked down at Whisper, who was now playing with his tail, "and, do you know what Kneazels eat?"

"I think fish? Or maybe chicken."

"How about both? Then he can choose which one he wants."

"Okay, I'll be right back. Don't leave this room, okay?"

"I won't."

"I mean it," Felix knelt on the floor in front of him, looking him straight in the eyes, driving home how serious he was, "Don't leave, and don't open the door for anyone that isn't me. I'll knock three times before I come in so you'll know that it's me. If anyone else tries to come inside, use the floo and leave."

"Are you sure you aren't the big bad wolf?" Harry mumbled under his breath, not able to resist.

"What?"

"Nothing. I won't leave the room, I promise. And don't forget that you still haven't answered my questions."

"Don't worry, I haven't," Felix stood up, ruffling his hair again, "I'll be right back."

He left, locking the door behind him.

"So, Whisper, what do you think we should do until he comes back?"

"Meow."

"That's just what I was thinking!"

* * *

"August-" Felix swung into the kitchen, coming face to sharp pointy tip with the knife the man in question was holding, cutting him off, almost literally.

"Woah!"

"Emily told me that you stole a child?" Augusts' ever present even tone made the fact that he still hadn't lowered the knife,  _100_  times more nerve-wracking then it had any right to be.

He slowed inched away from the knife, trying to make his case, " _Emily_ , is a filthy liar, who  _lies._ I didn't steal him, I  _saved_  him."

" _I heard that!"_

"I  _know_!" He shouted back. He tried to quickly dodge to the side, but August tripped him up, leaving him sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

"You're right, you didn't steal him."

"Thank you-"

"A child can't steal another child. The two of you are obviously on a play date," August turned back to the cutting board, chopping whatever he had there with enough force that a piece of, carrot? Really? Flew off to land perfectly on his forehead.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Can you see? I'm laughing on the  _outside,"_ Felix sat up, catching the piece of carrot as it fell and popping it into his mouth, "But back to why I'm  _actually_ here, do you have any more of that spinach egg quiche thing? And some fish and chicken? Oh, and any dessert? That triple chocolate brownie you make would be perfect."

"Oh?" August turned to him, eyebrow raised, a dangerous gleam in his eye, "Am I your personal chef now? Are there any other orders you'd like to make, Young Master?"

Felix, who very much valued his life, let silence be his answer.

August eyed him for a long second, turning away with a small smile on his face.

"You're such a devil, I swear."

"Someone needs to keep you in line. Look in the fridge."

Felix grabbed a serving tray and loaded everything he needed on it, grabbing an extra piece of brownie for himself.

"So, who is this boy?"

"Not sure. He says his name is Red, he has a Kneazle that's stuck on him closer than a seeker with a snitch, and he has to be the most adorable kid I have ever met," he bumped the fridge closed with his hip.

"Get this, after the whole thing with the hag-

"Now there's a hag?

"-yes, I  _told_  you that I saved him. I had to tell him that I was a werewolf, and you know what he did?"

"He obviously didn't run away from you, his parents should have taught him better. That, or gave him a handheld morning star."

"The solution has not, and will  _never_  be to give morning stars to  _children."_

 _"_ Yet."

"This is why I can never talk to you, I always get sidetracked. Now back to what  _I_ was saying," he added two glasses to the tray and a pitcher of water, looking at the rack of tea saucers, shrugging as he added one of them too, "I told him, and he asked me if I needed anything from any of the shops in Diagon, because he knows that those  _signs_ stop werewolves from going inside. He even offered to buy whatever it was that I  _needed!_  With his own money!"

"How unfortunate that he happened to run into you."

" _Hey!"_

August washed his hands, drying them off on his apron. He crossed his arms, wine red eyes laughing at him.

"And so you, overcome by aimless affection and gratitude, decide to bring the boy here. Tell me, when I speak to you, do my words go into one ear, and out the other? What exactly about the situation at present screams 'impulse control' to you? Behavior like this is why your compound in the Black Forest was overrun by rabbits last year."

"...it still is."

"Really? I'm sorry, forgive me. All this time I thought you were the Alpha of the third largest pack of werewolves in Europe, I didn't know that werewolves were some new slang for Pomeranians."

"You're so  _mean_ ," Felix whined.

"It's a gift."

"But really, that kind of  _is_  what happened. I don't know, something about him just seemed different, special. Maybe it was his eyes? They  _were_  strangely bright…you know, actually? He kind of reminds me of Vega and Lala. He gives off the same kind of energy, aura, I don't know, as they do. Speaking of, did I ever tell you that they went back to Koldovstoretz to take up the healer position there?"

"Hmm, now you've peaked my interest," August looked him over, eyes narrowed, lingering over his pockets.

"About Vega and Lala? You never-hey! What are you, how'd you get the key?" Felix stared at August, the key to the room suddenly dangling from one of his fingers.

"You've made me curious, and as the newest guest of my humble Inn, it's merely proper host etiquette to stop by and introduce myself."

'Wait! This stupid tray, wait! If you don't knock he'll-…and he's already gone."

" _Oh_ ,  _Fudge."_

* * *

At the sound of the key in the lock, Harry quickly unrolled himself from the fluffy down comforter, Whisper popping out of the ravaged remains of a pillow, feathers still raining down.

It was a fluffy massacre. Feathers were everywhere. In his hair, on the bed, on the ceiling, in his mouth.

He spat the feather out, watching the door. Something felt…off, like he was forgetting- _wait._

_Didn't Felix say that he was going to knock three times?_

Eyes wide, Harry dove off the bed, grabbing Whisper as gently as he could as he rushed to the fireplace. Whoever was about to come into the room was not Felix, and he needed to leave.  _Now._

He flung a handful of the green powder into the fire, emerald flames shooting high past his face, and said as clearly as he could, Griphook having stressed proper pronunciation to him when he was saying his destination, "Potter Family Ancestral Manor!".

He stepped into the fire, catching a fleeting glimpse of someone with black hair through the flames, before he felt a cool sensation all over his body. He closed his eyes as everything started to spin, hugging Whisper close.

After a short while, Harry came to a stop and he stumbled out of another fireplace. He almost fell, just managing to grab hold of the top of the fireplace before he did, Whisper cradled to his chest with his free arm.

"Wow.  _That_ , was close. I didn't actually think that someone else would come into the room. I hope that Felix is okay, and I hope that  _we're_  actually in the right place," He straightened himself out, looking around.

The room he was in was small, the fireplace, two big black couches in the center of the room, and a dark brown table between them the only things there.

All that, and a set of dirty footprints.

 _Ugh, I'm so dusty, I'm practically grey. And look at poor Whisper! If he looks like that, I don't even want to imagine what_ my  _hair looks like. We both need a bath._

Whisper, now looking like a very fluffy ball of grey soot, was the first one that Harry dusted off.

He got off as much as he could, but he still looked like he had been rolling around in ashes. Harry didn't even bother dusting his clothes off, just shaking out his hair, dust flying everywhere.

_I really should have had my magic braid it earlier. It would still be a mess, but probably not as much as it is now. At least the feathers are gone though._

Harry looked around. Instead of making anything better, all he had done was get dust over everything else, instead.

"I'll just...clean this all up later. Right now, we should-" three small pops rang out, cutting him off.

Standing in front of Harry were now three little ...people? He wasn't sure what to call them. They all had very large blue eyes, large floppy ears, and they were small, shorter than even him. And they were all wearing pillowcases?

"Young Master Harry!"

"No, no, just Master now."

"Master Harry! Pippy has been expecting you for a very long time. Pippy is the head of the Potter family house elves, and this is Cassy," Pippy said, bowing low to Harry, tugging on the arm of the house elf?, next to her.

Cassy bobbed her head once in greeting, a smile on her face, "and this is Tilly," Pippy continued, tugging at the house elf that was now hiding behind her, the one that had talked earlier. "Everyone else is getting the house ready for Master Harry." Pippy finished, and Harry just blinked at the three house elves in front of him, and they all blinked back.

"Um, hi? It's nice to meet you too, but what are you doing here? And why are you calling me-" Pippy's eyes seemed to somehow grow even larger as she got a good look at him, and more specifically, the mess he was in, squeaking loudly as she rushed forward to grab his hand.

"Master Harry is needing a bath right away, and clean clothes! And food for Master Harry's pet!" Pippy exclaimed.

"Wait-" Pippy snapped her fingers, and the next thing he knew, he was in a bathroom.

"Dirty, nasty clothes. Pippy will throw them in the trash, she will. Don't worry Master Harry, Pippy will give you some of Master James' clothes from when he was little."

Pippy moved around him in a whirlwind, picking at his clothes, and nudging him towards the huge tub that was filling itself with hot water and sweet smelling soap, bubbles building up and flying everywhere.

"Hold on-"

"Master Harry is too skinny! Pippy will make you a nice, hot meal. Take a bath, and call Pippy if you need anything."

"I-!" Harry turned around, but with the sound of another small pop, she was gone, leaving him and Whisper alone in the bathroom.

"She didn't answer any of my questions, but we are in the right place, so I guess that's fine. I'll just call her back after we take a bath. How does that sound Whisper? Are you ready to get clean? I know I am."

He took his dirty clothes off and climbed into the bath, coaxing Whisper to get in with him. He dunked his head underneath the water and scrubbed at his hair, coming up for air with a big splash. His hair spread out in the water, inky tendrils spreading out like the arms of an octopus.

Harry helped Whisper get clean and then let him go to play with the mound of bubbles, sitting back and watching as he popped them with his little paws. Now that he was sitting still, it was like the reality of the whole day hit him, all at once, and he couldn't help but laugh.

This was the absolute last place he could have ever imagined ending up when he woke up this morning, and it was exactly where he needed, and wanted, to be.

He had Whisper, a home to go to that wasn't the library or the Dursleys, money to buy things, and a whole new world to discover, that was just waiting for him to uncover its secrets.

And it was all thanks to his magic, and Harry himself.

None of this would have even been possible, if he didn't realize that as long as he believed in  _himself_ , that he could do anything. That was the one, and  _only_  thing, he would  _ever_  be thankful to Dumbledore for, because he made him realize that he had the power to make things happen in his life. He didn't have to wait for someone else to make his life better, when he was perfectly capable of doing that himself.

Things were looking up now, and Harry couldn't wait to discover what the future had in store for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) , which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
>  
> 
> Whisper
> 
> “If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!“


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